Here in the Northeast USA, it is during the months following the Solstice that we experience Winter’s force and power although each day we gain a few minutes of light, moving towards Spring.

It was the depth of darkness and cold that first drew us into stark awareness of the season of stillness in late Autumn, but we had the holidays to look forward to as diversion as well as celebration, giving us respite from the primal posture of Nature’s cold season and its relentless demands upon us.

Now it is REALLY time to be still and to lie fallow…at least if you are a seed in the earth, asleep, but in deep dreaming about the life that will emerge and blossom into magnificent manifestation in a few months time.

We (and perhaps the seed also tho I doubt it) no longer of agrarian bent culturally, have such a hard time being still and fully entering the slower time of waiting, dreaming and deep listening that is offered to us this season…so used to busy-ness, activity and artificial light that tricks us out of the reality of our Creature-hood!

So perhaps Mother Nature speaks to us, as well as the Earth, when she sends a fierce blanketing of whirling snow over all movement and noise, save the commanding Voice of a howling wind to send us deep into our caves by candlelight. To be warm. To be safe. To germinate into our newness at the right moment, which is not exactly now, yet.

We are humbled by such fierce, stark and powerful weather when there are no colors but grey, brown, black and white. About a day or two or three are all we can take without losing hope, and feeling drained, and in captivity to the cold, especially if we cannot shovel out and start the car!

But, after the fury-the calm, the light, the blue colour of sky returns upon the accomplished blanketing and we finally surrender into winter because of it. We crunch, booted, upon ice and snow dotted with twigs and broken tree branches as we move more carefully going about our busy lives, accepting this new season and perhaps even blessing its stark beauty. For the moment, we forget that there is something new coming in soon…

Piano students come and go during the week in my little cottage and the fierce storm of this past week interrupted that rhythm. When the storm passed and a semi-safe path was shoveled to allow entry, I still accompanied my students, many who are adventurous Elders, out to their cars to insure their safety, and then dashing in quickly out of the bitter cold, to the warmth of my studio.

And as I dashed up the snowy path , lost in thought over the next appointment, a small flash of greening caught my eye, low underfoot almost once past it. What was that? Retracing my steps, there it was flat in the snow…one clear, spring green Sage leaf lying peacefully where it had landed, probably snatched from the mother plant during the fierce blizzard winds, whirled about and then coming to rest, undamaged in this patch of white.

There it was , fuzzy and fat-veined in a pattern repeated in nature like the upwards branches of a tree or the downwards roots of the same, or the branches within the human lung, which mirror back again, the tree. What a wondrous precious thing to see, like a magical message from Summer past, or Summer Becoming…A gift from the Earth lying there to be seen hopefully by one such as myself who needed to be reminded of the ever present, ever faithful Cycle of Life-Death-Life over and over again, and my place within that awesome Wonder.

Yesterday I directed a retreat in which the morning topic was “The Miracle of the Four Elements”. We pondered each element separately, Earth, Air, Fire and Water, considering its reality, its manifestations, its metaphors and the wonder of its part in the whole of Life.

This morning, realizing I had run out of half and half for my “wake-up” coffee, I reluctantly changed from comfy nightgown to daywear so I could go across the highway to buy it. I was, however, not able to leave immediately as after yesterday’s day of heavy rain and last night’s freeze, my car was covered with ice.

What to do in life when thwarted? My answer usually is “Make Art!”

Inside to grab the camera, and back outside to photograph the ice patterns on the auto before the car started to defrost!

The wonders and Miracles are all around us if we open our eyes!

One of the MIRACLES of the element Water that was overlooked in our musings yesterday was that water is a shape-shifter! We talked about the oceans and tears and the symbol for the deep Unconscious in dreams.. How could we have not mentioned water turning into ICE and these magnificent ice crystal patterns!

It is true that there is never a moment when beauty and the imagination is absent. There are natural wonders around us at all times, often missed but captured when the eyes of our hearts are open. Poets, mystics, artists, writers, children and elders are often the ones who become seers (deep- see-ers), moving through life attuned to the magic..

For the wonders and miracle of the Element of WATER… we are enchanted!

Note: these pictures of ice on my car were turned into art with help from the editing programs of Windows and Picasa. (Doing on the computer what used to be done in the darkroom. That’s a miracle too!

In the previous Herbal Love 1 essay “Finding My Plant Spirit Guide” I spoke of MUGWORT and how it seems to have come to me many years ago, planting itself right outside my bedroom window next to the exact wall outside, where I sleep and DREAM inside. In fact, I do dream most vividly and for thirty years have led and participated in a circle of dreamers who gather regularly to share our dreams and our life stories. Combined with my herbal studies, I have learned of the ancient connections between dreams and the knowledge passed on to indigenous healers from the plants themselves through the vehicle of the dreams.

Over and over again in interviews with shamans and healers in various cultures, the “Dream” is mentioned as a source of the wisdom and knowing about certain plants to use for those needing care, healing and balance. In his wonderful book “Sacred Plant Medicine”, Stephen Harrod Buhner writes ” While many indigenous cultures value and use empirical knowledge about medicine passed down from generation to generation, they typically attribute their most effective healing knowledge to visions or dreams of the plant spirit or other helpers. (p. 25). He continues: “..it was hard to overlook the detailed knowledge the Indians had of their plant world……As native peoples were questioned more closely about their plant medicines, the uniformly replied that the source of their knowledge came from dreams or visions or that the plant had told them its medicinal use.” (p. 27).

As I pondered these writings, I wondered what plant I should choose who might talk to me as a friend and helper as I love so many of them and have grown so many of the wonderful herbs in my garden, teaching others of them and how to use them. But then, I thought about Mugwort…so much of it under my bedroom window and that it is an herb associated with dreams and the visions and deep-seeing of the third eye of intuition and I laughed out loud ..no need to go “looking” for a plant ally…there was one in profusion right outside my dreaming space throughout all seasons! How incredibly obvious! And I never personally planted it there…it came of its own accord!

Mugwort, mugwort…the premier herb to mix with lavender for the famous Dream Pillows we all make in our herbal internships as a special fragrant project, sometimes inserting rose petals for love, or a tinysmooth crystal for deeper insight. Mugwort essential oil anointing the third-eye space of the forehead to enhance visions and intuition. Mugwort used in teas for young women to regulate menses…the moontime…as mugwort (Artemesia vulgaris) is ruled by the moon. Mugwort, made into a tea for rituals around the dark or full moon…Mugwort, made into a tea for the dreamers refreshment in our workshops or a stronger brew before sleeping to stimulate new dreams. In Pam Montgomery’s book “Plant Spirit Healing: A Guide to Working with Plant Consciousnesness”, she writes of Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and ruler of Mugwort: As the Moon Goddess she embodies the magic of the dreamtime and imparts to mugwort the ability to easily enter daydreams, night dreams and journey dreams, just as easily with insight, clarity and deep knowing” (p.183)

The Dreamer (Artist unknown)

We live in times that desperately need new vision, deeper insight and sparkling clarity to face the challenges of our personal, cultural and ecological lives. For those who are natural dreamers (The Pisces, Cancer and Scorpio peoples) and those who wish to pay more attention to the wisdoms of the dreamtime that are available to those who pay attention, Mugwort can be a wonderful ally and guide.

The recipe below for Dreamer’s Tea isshared with you as I share in the sacred wisdom circles that I am part of. The recipe is not carved in stone..you may add more or less as you are inspired.

Dreamer’s Tea (dried herbs)

2 parts mugwort

1 part rose petals

1 part spearmint leaves or to taste (mugwort is a little bitter)

1/2 or less lavender for relaxation and spiritual uplift (optional) OR 1/2 or less dried rosemary for dream recall (optional)

When I make my infusions (tea) I do not have a specific amount of dried tea per cup of water as it depends on taste and purpose. As a “social tea” in working wisdom circles like our “Dreams/Peer Mentoring Retreats” I make a lighter brew for the spirit of the day (perhaps a well rounded teaspoon of dried tea per cup, and a short steeping time). For a before bedtime infusion to stimulate dreams and dream recall, I brew it stronger…perhaps a tablespoon dried herb mix per cup and steep it longer, adjusting or adding more water to taste I love my teas with organic locally harvested HONEY to taste as well.

May you be blessed by Mugwort and your Dreams and Visions tonight!

From Christine, The Greening Spirit

To inspire your dreams and visions for a creative life, good food and beautiful music, please visit my other blogs!

Winter has finally arrived on the coast of New England and it is COLD and dark in the very early evening and later morning….time to go into my library of beloved books and select several favorites long-shelved and read years ago. The surprise is that they all seem new in the re-read although they are underlined by my own hand with personal notes in the margins from the past. What’s true is that I amnew, as it always should be if one is an ever-greening spirit in life as we move along through the years, now receiving their beautiful wisdom once again at a deeper level in the re-read with greater understanding and application.

I have been re-reading several books about communing with the plant world, trees and herbs from the perspective and practice of plant SPIRIT medicine and guidance which is different from the herbal books on how to make medicines, tinctures, teas. This is about real and actual communication and conversation with the spirits of the plants who are willing to interact with us as our teachers, mentors, guides, helpers and healers if we are respectful and honoring of them and such possibilities. Several of these books are Eliot Cowan’s “Plant Spirit Medicine”, Stephen Harrod Buhner’s “Sacred Plant Medicine” and Pam Montgomery’s “Plant Spirit Healing”, all teachers whom I have sat in front of at various herbal conferences in the past.

What I realize is that I have always been talking and listening to the plants..and especiallythe herbs…in my garden, taking it for granted and ascribing it to the fact that I have a rich and fertile imagination. But what I realize is that communication has been going on between me and the plants for a long time and now I want to listen in a new way and to find out who my plant spirit helpers are..

I thought about this for quite a few days here in the onset of winter when many of the outside herbs have buried themselves deep under the leaves and soil to rest, so I can’t go out and have that conversation in person right now, today. But as I was going through older posts here on the Greening Spirit, I came across a post or two about herbal workshops that I facilitated several years ago and one of the herbs that kept coming up in my consciousness and fondness is MUGWORT. Mugwort… magical third-eye visionary dreamer’s herb of young fertile women, and older wise-women. Mugwort, that grows in vibrant profusion outside under my bedroom window, where my head is near that wall in the bed inside where I nightly deep-dream, the source of inspiration for our Dreams/Peer Mentoring Retreats and my writings. And I did not plant mugwort there. It came of its own accord to that very spot. It knew who was sleeping on the other side of that wall!

I have more to say of Mugwort…but for now I re-post the story below from when I was preparing to teach an herbal workshop several years ago..placing myself mindfully in the middle of that mugwort patch to receive inspiration. Apparently we have been talking for a very long time… but now our relationship is about to get a whole lot more serious… lifelong partners?

Magical, Medicinal MUGWORT! ( a post from 2009)

“In any garden, the early morning is a magical and misty time. Especially if you live by the sea, the morning often emerges slowly from a mysterious and echo-y blanket of fog, under which the sounds of birds drift in and out as if from a far and distant land, even though they are just in the woods behind the garden.

In special preparation for the June 7th “ Your Magical Garden” class, I have been sitting with the Wild Weeds throughout the day and especially in the early primeval hours just before the Sun breaks through to burn off the mists. With notebook and portable chair, I have been sitting in the middle of the Mugwort patch, at the edges of the Stinging Nettles under the budding white pine tree, side-by-side with the renegade blackberry vines, in front of the yellow dock, meadowsweet and elecampane, over the dandelions, and near the wild lettuce and baby poke, waiting in silence and stillness for them to “speak” to me as to why they are there, especially in MY yard, and what they want to communicate. And, trust me…they DO.

MUGWORT this year is especially vibrant…and unless you are a Wild Weed yourself, or a Greening Spirit..you might be one of those Muggles (NO relation to the plant!) who think that you better call Chem-Lawn to help clean up the edges of your lawn. NO! NO!

Mugwort (Artemesia vulgaris) is a wonderfully magical and medicinal herb that has come to the aid of those of us who need a digestive remedy, or to help with a woman’s monthly cycle, or as an ally to stimulate your dreams and intuition (and much more). Tho this herb provides nourishing help to both men and women, it is one of the “magical” herbs for the especially powerful “deep seeing” gifts of the elder woman, who often recognizes what is amiss within the family, the tribe, or the society and is called to speak in behalf of balance and right relationship. For that “straight talk,” stimulated by the visions and dreams unlocked by this magical plant, the assistance of Stinging Nettle, which stands tall and commands respect if you do not treat her respectfully, can give courage to voice….but, that is another story..to be shared in another post, forthcoming (or at the workshop..)”

***NOTE! Check in a day or two for Part 2 to this essay: More on the place of “Dreams” in the world of Plant Spirit Medicine and a Dreamer’s Tea recipe!

It is a tradition in our family to take a walk in nature together when they come back to visit on the holidays. Sometimes by the sea, often in the woods of oak, beech or birch on winding trails with fallen logs and lichen covered boulders along the sides of the path, we being refreshed and inspired by the wildness of the earth.

This time we visited a local compound of unusual shops that has always been a strange and unique place here tucked away on a small side road in our little New England coastal community. Oddly called “The Umbrella Factory” it is reminiscent of the funky artsy shoppes and culture of the hippy 60’s with an amazing garden and garden center, falling down barns, wandering peacocks, ducks and guinea hens, fenced-in pens with sheep, and large rumbling ostrich-like birds.

The vegetation, though cared-for and apparently tended, still has a witchy-wild draping of massive tangled vines and strange plants that radiate an energy of mischief and …well….the unexpected as if unseen forces are watching US!

In the back of the property is a huge stand of bamboo…so thick, deep and wide that it is indeed a forest…and a path has been cut through it now which is too tempting to NOT walk into and through the growth to see where it leads and eventually ends up.

It is dark in there. And the canopy so thick that there is no sky, but rather an enormously high vault of bamboo poles and green leafy ceiling. Indeed it feels as if one has entered into a mysterious cave with no way out but THROUGH or going back the way you came in. There are a number of false paths on the sides that lead nowhere so following the straight cleared path ahead is wise.

Bamboo is a whole other kind of plant… hard, hollow, and segmented, it has an ancient and prehistoric feel to it by touch and sight.. I can almost imagine dinosaurs crushing their way through such a forest. Even though it absolutely tempts one to cut a stalk down and make a flute for music, it voluntarily makes the music of percussion on its own in heavy wind, or clacking if one walks through the woods hitting the large pillars with a stick while moving through. It is, in its segmented growth, a perhaps very distant relative (at least in ancient spirit) to the tiny segmented horsetail plant that grows low to the ground and which we love to pull apart gently and obsessively, separating each level of growth.

(Above: Horsetail)

The Bamboo Plant has captured my imagination!

Tonight I prepare dinner and in taking out my green-to-eat vegetable…asparagus…I think also that this plant seems very ancient as well and looks like a little bamboo too, tho I hardly imagine making a flute out of it!

The Bamboo Forest here in New England at the Umbrella Factory is a very strange forest and a nearby adventure to enchant (or unsettle) children and adults with fairy-tale imaginations…a different kind of woods walk for sure!

It is a Holy Night. It is a night of especially Sacred Mystery. It is Solstice, Dec 21, 2014 , the official first day of Winter..the frozen fallow season in the Northern Hemisphere… and the night when the earth is tilted on its axis farthest away from the sun while rotating and whirling in its orbit without spinning off wildly into the even darker void.

And to add to the power and mystery of this evening, a new moon is emerging from its three days of hidden solitude and into the darkest night of the year at the same time, inviting us twice to ponder the eventual returning Light of both SUN and MOON and what they each symbolize for our lives. This unusual occurrence is a metaphor, if not a sacred omen, portending the possibility of the healing of darkness in people and cultures at war and unrest with grief and suffering,

There is an even deeper message with the emergent new moon on this night for the much needed Divine Feminine to make Herself fully present to us as we go forth into the new year when the old Patriarchal systems are breaking down all around us and around the planet, surrounding us with chaos and confusion.

The Divine Fire/Sun of the sacred masculine gifts of fertility and guardianship merging with the Divine Lunar Feminine gifts of Nurturing and Protection is more possible ….and necessary at this time of history. His-story plus Her-story = Our-story.

And so, now is a feast of the Cosmos, and of the indigenous earth-centered or Pagan Path of Sacred Mystery on this Solstice/SOULstice night. THIS holy time calls us to look deeper into the symbols and metaphors of what the Dark, the Light, the ever-faithful; seasonal cycles , the cold, the wind, the ice, and the powerful forces of Nature have to teach us about our proper place in Creation. This night is about our Creaturehood, our vulnerability, our humility, as well as our magnificence since we too are made of star-stuff and the Flame of Life that animates us while we are here. We are Sun, Star, Moon, Water, Flesh, Fire and Air.

Tonight, it is good to step outside into the cold and dark and gaze up into the sky, listening to the silent sleeping of nature, and the winds moving through the bare branches. It is then time to go back inside and light a candle, symbolic of fire’s power to bring us warmth, joy, passion, and Life.

Oh the gifts we give and get throughout the holiday season! Sometimes they truly fulfill a desire, sometimes they elicit that weird smile that accompanies the phrase…” uh, gee…thankssssssss..uh…so much?” and the confused inner question (“what were they thinking????). Holidays require a sense of humor!

As a piano/music teacher for over 30 years, I have received my share of musical Christmas ornaments for the tree, mugs with the musical staff imprinted on the sides, curvy black and white keyboard flower vases and treble clef earrings. All gifts from appreciative students and their thoughtful parents accepted with grace and gratitude.

Not all gifts from family who are not with each other for most of the year are deeply personal although the gifting itself is sweet … another pair of fuzzy socks, a gift card to the supermarket, or a stick-on-the-wall light that comes on with a mere tap so you don’t fall down the cellar stairs.

But sometimes, there is a very special gift that is deeply personal, coming from the heart and hands of the giver and sent on purpose with love and directly to the heart of the receiver.

In my daughter M’s last year at an away-college, she would spend her evenings with her boyfriend who was a landscape architect major at the “studio” where the students worked on their design projects for the semester. A large long room for setting out displays and installations was the place for creativity.

Somewhere over the years I had waxed poetic over the little artsy crafted trees in specialty gift stores…some with leaves of jade, some with bare branches. And “M” had that memory tucked away on file in her “about Mom” data bank.

That holiday season I received one of the best gifts of all time: a hand-made wire solstice tree on a base of slate. M had crafted this over the course of that semester in the evenings at the landscape architecture studio…long 10 foot length pieces of the thinnest wire, twisted and wrapped with care into this little tree, it being naked and bare in the winds of winter, branches blown sideways into the elements. No craft kit, no instructions to follow… a creation from herself, a gifted crafter who loves to figure these kinds of things out as a puzzle. The tree was fixed into the base of slate with the help of her boyfriend’s father, a dentist who had some other tools and crafty ideas himself.

My surprise and delight was just what she had envisioned…! What a gift!

Each year this tree comes out onto my piano in December, with a red tinsel garland around the base and the single tiny red bulb hung in its center..so vulnerable, so simple and so ready to be present first to December and the dark and cold, then to the Solstice with that tiny ball of red..a berry of aliveness when everything is asleep underground, and finally as a reminder to keep the true spirit of Christmas by being still and present through simplicity and love.

Twenty years have gone by since I received this treasure…and today, on mydaughter’s birthday…I send her a BIG hug and another THANK YOU for this little wire Solstice Tree… and for her own beautiful self who was our Christmas gift the year she “arrived”. Happy Birthday, Dearie, with love!

The new box of crayons! Flipping open the top of that collection of 64 colors was always such an exciting deal, as a child, as a mother and as a grandmother watching the eyes of youngsters light up with the dazzling vibrant possibilities.

The Crayola Crayons have been replaced by other forms of coloring tools…pencils, gel pens, markers fine-tipped or thick, with or without sparkles. But none of these offer the variety of hues as that box of crayons.

My favorite crayon was always the Burnt Sienna…and is still. In nature, where there are Autumn oaks, there are lighter and darker shades of this color when the season changes from summer to deep fall…I seek it out amongst this seasons colors that will soon be a limited palette of black, grey, brown and white. A combination of brown/pink/salmon all mixed together, create in Burnt Sienna a warmth and comfort that I find irresistible.

The Celtic Catholic Priest (Druid?) once said that we need to have new names and concept for “God”. He called God the Great Artist.

I’m not sure what it is about autumn that evokes such a feeling of tenderness in me towards the little leaves that carpet the landscape, and the broken lichen-covered tree limbs that lay nestled in the colorful piles upon the forest floor. They are all “passing” now to eventually dissolve back into the earth, but during that process, they are still teaming with life as food and nourishment for other living forms. If one could capture a visual of the enzymatic activity on film, it would all dazzle and sparkle in the breakdown and constant release of life energy.

They don’t go out without sensual beauty..the colors, the shapes, the crackling of dryness underfoot when trod upon, the scent of the turning…pungent and earthy… I love them in their bold fragility, my heart full of compassion for the generosity of their being. I want to keep them forever, though I understand that that is not the way of life or the purpose of this season…

Back home, I bring the essence of Nature from this walk into my very self with a steaming cup of Lavender Tulsi Tea, lightly sweetened with locally tapped maple syrup. It’s as close and personal as I can get to holy communion with the energies of the Autumn Woods…

Maybe it is because I am a Taurus earth sign with a Cancer rising water sign that the woods and the sea have always been magical places for me . When the world of civilization and complexities of daily life as a child and as an adult became and become overwhelming, these two places in nature have always been sanctuary for sorting out and regaining equilibrium.

As a child growing up in an inner city in New York state, concrete buildings and sidewalks did not allow much greenery except for the parks which we frequented on Sundays or holidays, and the wild weed plant life along the edges of parking lots or between apartment buildings. Later, moving upstate to more rural countryside, the GREEN of farmlands and un-fussed over lawns was everywhere, and for a city kid…this was pure heaven. I remember the day we moved into our first home (instead of an apartment) in our new town. My brother age 8, and I, age 11 rolled and frolicked with delight in the soft lush grass in our first REAL backyard. We could hardly believe that we had our very own expanse of GREEN!

Upstate, there were also many areas all around us that were semi-wooded..trees, ferns, ponds, bushes, little streams of running water with frogs in them even! On the property of a small estate bordering our middle class neighborhood, I discovered a discreet earthen path that led into a deeply wooded area with a rushing babbling brook winding its way through the hidden grove of standing and fallen trees and plant life. In this grove was a little naturally cleared circle in which one could comfortable sit, unseen by civilization. Often I would disappear into those woods for comfort, centering and a state of what I can only call childhood prayer. I think of those days with longing, and with the memory that those were the days when a child could safely disappear into the woods without fear of being kidnapped or harmed, and also the days when children could DO something like that or WANT TO do something like that instead of learning about the world by googling the word “nature” or playing virtual games with pictures of the woods on a computer. My grandchildren do not have the opportunity these days to safely disappear and “get lost” in those hidden places free from adult supervision, commercialism and “virtual reality”.

I still seek out these hidden woods and forests for centering, balance, perspective, inner peace, prayer and INTERFACE with the magical energies and spirits of the natural wildness. Mostly at nature preserves with trails…and always with a camera. There is so much going on in these places…shapes, colors, textures, qualities of light and shadow, the ongoing dramatic interplay of life and death..things growing, things breaking down in an exquisite economy in which nothing is wasted.

These places, for me, are where I go when I need to just leave the madness of the world’s confusion, contradiction and insanity… to withdraw mentally and physically, and metaphorically “get lost” in the holy and magical sanctuary of the woods, which in itself is a beautiful and sacred text of wisdom, if one knows how to read it!

Many Thanksgivings have come and gone and once again we are on the eve of that special day, each year the experience of the holiday both familiar and new as people come an go in ours lives.

And yet, we approach the day with precious memories that may or may not have anything to do with the picture painted by Norman Rockwell, in which a Gram and Gramps preside over the holiday feasting table of sons and daughters with their spouses and children, all gathered as one big happy family.

It is a picture with a homey, old-fashioned air of harmony, peace, togetherness and the ongoing family story, extended into longer chapters with each new marriage, each new birth. The thing that is so touching in this painting is that it feels real and comforting, eliciting the longing for “coming home” where we are loved, accepted, connected and recognized, and it’s fulfillment on Thanksgiving Day.

But as I pondered this, other not- so- cozy scenes of the holiday prompted me to to ask the questions ”where are all the OTHER sets of parents of the spouses who married into the family in this picture ? Their own children, now all grown up, are HERE at this table, not at their table, so where are they? And how are they celebrating this day of “togetherness and home-coming”?

I suspect they are: #1. With their other children, or with friends #2. Eating a turkey dinner at the local Fire Station with other child-less elders. #3 Alone at home watching QVC. The Norman Rockwell painting may portray the experience of some, but what you can’t see are all the others who are attached deeply to those seated around the table, but who are NOT there, and having to create a way to alternatively go through the day somewhere else where they find kinship or seek solace in some manner in solitude that may be piercing to the heart.

So it was that yesterday, a day after Thanksgiving itself (when my out-of-town daughter, son-in law and grandchild came through for an overnight after spending this year’s Thanksgiving with his extended family elsewhere), I made my way to the home of dear friends where 19 of us gathered once again around the welcoming table at Madeline and Michael’s in a nearby township. Madeline had to work at the hospital on Thanksgiving this year and so the official celebration was moved to Friday, which served us well. For some, it was Thanksgiving #2, having spent Thursday elsewhere with blood family or friends, and for some, it was THE Thanksgiving #1, having spent Thursday alone cleaning the house or yard or watching the football game without family. But for ALL of us, no matter what the official day of Thanksgiving had been, gathering once again around the table at Madeline and Michael and with each other, was THE “coming home” event, as we greeted each other with open, cheerful, tender, or wounded hearts that could, for these hours and in this company, heal with welcoming, stories, hugs, laughter, updating, and the bounty of the earth.

Everyone contributed a specialty to the banquet table, an offering sharing delight and nourishment to pleasure and sustain both body and spirit. The age range of guests around this table spanned a great swath of time and several decades, from age 80 down to age 1½. There was a 7 year old, some young 20 year olds, a couple in their 30’s, a number of 60+ year olds, a 75-er and a great elder of 80. And unlike sitting at the table with one’s children in their 30’s plus toddlers in which there is no possibility of starting or actually finishing a sentence, there was REAL conversation, and the topics varied…who’s doing what, how to cut down a tall tree, the price of ink (one of the costliest commodities at $5000 a gallon), growing potatoes and butternut squash organically in the neighborhood gardens, what the difference is between the space shuttle (that part which propels the whole affair) and the capsule( where the astronauts live and work and float about in space), how a cat sitting atop a tv survived a lightening strike, what it’s like being on a construction crew working on building mega-mansions for the mega rich ( summer homes that include helicopter pads and indoor private theatres) and many other interesting topics to mull over keeping the conversations lively with stories.

At this table were artists, painters, a dollmaker,a woodcraftsman, a piano teacher, a flute player, a roofer, a construction supervisor, a soon- to- be aeronautical engineer, a lady bartender, a teaching assistant, a grade-school teacher, two medical lab technicians , potters, an astrologer, a Chinese translator, lots of great cooks, gardeners, herbalists, former professional photographers, Irish set-dancers, English Country Dancers etc-many of us wearing more than one hat in what we do for our both Vocations and our avocations, and a great pool of wisdom, expertise and services to offer within this little “village” of companions.

Times have changed from the evocative scene portrayed in the painting of Thanksgiving by Norman Rockwell. Yes, families still do gather at long tables, and carve the turkey, and watch the grandchildren, nieces and nephews dash around the house in rambunctious delight and play. They still note with bittersweet memory those who are no longer alive, and their absence from the banquet of Life. But this scene attempts to portray a wholeness and a continuity, which is does in a lovely way. Yet in these times, the changes include family continuity challenged by many divorces, great distances between people, and a cultural ethic that puts commercialism and glitz (Thanksgiving stuffed animals and baskets on display in September, Christmas goodies with sports, Disney or designer logos on display in November) before the simplicity of community coming together in some form, either familial or intentional, consciously, and with a gentle ease, to linger together, take refreshment, tell stories, laugh, and be grateful for the hours of gathering set apart from the mundane daily routines. And if there is the possibility of a span of generations present, than there is an extra richness and nourishment around the table and afterwards, in front of the fire.

For the wonderful Thanksgiving gathering on Friday at Madeline and Michael’s and the members of the day’s intentional “tribe”, I am very nourished and full of Gratitude. Thank you, Thank you, dearest of Friends.

As photographers, we are always looking “deeply” into the world around us…horizons wide or far, vast skies or scenarios, closeups of the inner realms of flowers or the true stories behind the faces of people, colors that enchant, shapes and angles that tease the eye, shadows and the play of light that alternatively cloak and reveal mysteries hidden in plain sight.

I have a call to capturing and photographing “windows and doorways” leading to hidden realms and territories that may be home to otherworldly treasures, or at least to deeper meanings of life beyond superficiality and speed. Therefore, I am always “cropping” to get closer to my subjects or to frame a portal in order to accept the invitation to step out of ordinary consciousness and into the territory of “Dream”.

When one of my daughters saw this picture, she asked what is that shape in the center of the picture in the woods beyond the portal. Is it a tombstone? Or maybe a small boulder? Or better yet…ANOTHER doorway to a yet even deeper more mysterious territory? I could not answer her really, because although I took the photo, I don’t actually remember seeing that in the larger uncropped picture until I worked with the image of the circular bent tree branch forming a doorway. Shall we call whatever it is a “mystery” for you to name with your own imagination? What would you like it to be? What story of it would you like to tell?

It is said that we, moving so fast and pre-occupied in our overly busy daily lives, often hear but don’t really “listen”, and look but don’t really “see”. That, perhaps, is because although our ears and eyes are such powerful and amazing sensing organs gathering the information, it is the Heart that truly interprets the input.. The Heart therefore is the real organ of Deep Listening and Deep Seeing, in which, if we take the time to crop and focus in our interpersonal interactions, gifts us with a depth for understanding the mysterious territories…the “interiority” of those places, experiences and people with whom we are in relationship.

Whether in photography, nature, the arts, relationships or Dream, there is ALWAYS more beyond the portal.

Do you have a dream? A tender longing in your heart for something not yet experienced, or fulfilled? A secret love for life’s sweet potential or creative expression that wants to pour out of you, framing your world in circular Beauty?

Our dreams for a better more fulfilling way of life are often tender and fragile like bubbles in the air. I do believe as they are breathed through us by the Divine Artist and out into the world that they hold within their radiantly colored boundaries, everything we need for them to be fulfilled, sustained by the breath of God.

When they burst of their own accord, they shower everything with colorful droplets of the dream to seed the air all around with the creative vision, manifesting in its own timely fashion.

Yet when intercepted prematurely with a finger and negative words by naysayers, the Bubble Bursts and its secrets fall to the ground in heavy wetness, the integrity and potential of its inner surprises pierced and deflated.

Please don’t burst my Bubble when I share my dream with you but kindly add your own breath and gently blow it forward to see how far it will travel before exploding with finesse into the winds of creation! In that we will both be surprised and delighted….. together.

Note: I captured these happy bubbles when my very grown-up son-in-law was on the deck with the children of our family during a summer visit, keeping themselves and HIMSELF amused. Squeals and claps of merriment from all!

There has been a festival of color underfoot on my front lawn as I walk across it to my car or to pick up the mail. The Japanese maple, home to hundreds, maybe even thousands of tiny leaves, has released them each for their one solo flight, back to the earth. They are dressed gayly for the occasion, not in mourning but for the resting place and the next phase of transformation after summer’s greening work on the tree, now completed.

They are so small and perfect in their pointed edges, some quite tiny and oh so happy in splendid hues of yellow, gold, red, orange and cream. They are also so vulnerable too at this time of surrender and for the oddest reason, as I walk though, over or around them, I am filled with love and tenderness at their now fragile and fleeting beauty…I feel such compassion for them…I feel like their Mother.

Some come in with me for little altars and the warmth of candlight in my home. They are with me at the piano while I teach so I can see them and offer them sanctuary near the music and near friendly people who, like me, think them adorable and a wonder…like we used to feel about the babies in our lives. Such tenderness.

Shamans in ancient and modern rituals and ceremonies, through the use of potent brews, mushrooms and scents go into altered states in which they slip through a portal of natural time into a place of deep-seeing. In this alternative state of consciousness, they move through a dreamlike journey between this world and the Other, perceiving colors, shadows, shapes and energies not readily discernible in normal time, but existing simultaneously with what we call “real”. They are “under-the-influence” of chemical and magical substances with inherited knowledge and caution, to see and experience a level of beauty, connectedness and possibilities we ordinarily cannot see. They are DEEP-SEEING and eventually come back to full mundane consciousness with a deeper knowing and perception of the way things REALLY are in this world.

I am under the influence of the PICASA photographic editing program and beautiful music at full volume with head phones as I write this post…and a my magical brew, a healing tea of the Ojibway peoples of Canada. Though the MAGIC of technology I work with the image of the tree in my Yarden to see what it might really look like through the portal from this world into the Other, where colors and light and textures are even more wondrous that what our senses perceive on this side of daily-here life.

There is a joy in the world alongside this one..a treasure of Beauty and vibrancy, shimmering and radiating light and color in different modalities than we are used to. Things are not always as we perceive. There is a myth that altho blood when it hits the air is red, but when running through our veins, is the color blue. Look at your wrist! What is the truth? How are things, really?

Under the influence of Picasa, beautiful music, and Ojibwa tea of woodland herbs and bark…the amazing beauty of this Autumn is almost more than we can comprehend. For the possibilities of what it might truly be through Deep-Seeing, I am awed and delighted. And waltzing to the music in my living room in between writing!

It has always been my way since I was a teenager in my parent’s home, to open the blinds to let the morning light into the room. For most of my adult life however, I have lived at ground level with sliding glass doors to a deck surrounded by woods, trees, shrubs, field and bodies of water at the far edges of greenery. My firs awakening step during these years has been to slide the glass door open to greet the morning and listen to the sounds of nature…the symphony of winds, birds and creatures, and the faraway hint of the sea. This morning ritual has always been like a wordless prayer of attention, a grounding that reminds me of my creatureliness and connection to the world of nature, being OF it, not above or outside of it. Nature is musical and it does have a repertoire of sounds and songs each season.

Early spring? Open the sliding glass door and there is an occasional solitary birdsong that has not been heard for many months of winter. But then, suddenly …PEEPERS somewhere off in hidden bodies of water in and around civilization, whatever that is for us where we are. Have we ever actually seen Peepers? Not usually, but they are THE music of early spring into pre-summer.

Summer? Where I have always lived in the Northeast, on the coast but surrounded by trees, shrubs and greenery the natural symphony is alive, vibrant and Fortissimo especially all through the night…birds of all kinds of feather, bullfrogs, tree frogs, buzzing insects like cicadas and especially the hard to describe incessant chorus of CRICKETS. There have been nights when I have stood for an hour or more after midnight in the dark by an open window facing the woods with the overhanging canopy of trees forming an umbrella of green over my house..just to listen to the wild but celebratory symphony of our New England rainforest..expecting at any one moment to hear the cry of a jaguar as well.

In the mornings of summer into early fall, the sliding deck door get opened and there UNFAILINGLY is the ever-present low to the ground choir of crickets..a presence you can count on just as surely as the rising sun of morning. All is alive and fertile and in movement and so are we in spirit and in habits of summer play, socializing and travel.

But what are the seasons but the Turning of the Great Wheel. The summer’s heat begins to cool and give way to brisk nights and chilly mornings. We open the sliding glass door to the deck and woods and there is a thinning of the chorus..and with each night and early morning tinged with a chill, the symphony turns into a chorus, the chorus turns into a quintet, a quartet, a trio..spread out wide…of cricket song.

And then one morning, sometime in November, upon awakening and peering out beyond the glass of the sliding glass doors, we are greeted by a sparkle and coating of crystals upon all branches, dried stalks and fallen leaves. We slide the door open gently and the silence is almost louder than the wild rainforest of summer. The silence is stunning and non-negotiable…everything, EVERYTHING is still and halted..no birdsong in the grey, no crickets..not even one solitary voice…a powerful silent call to pulling in for reflect on all that has happened during the busy times, for hearth and home whether that means going back into and under the earth, or to tend the fires of the woodstove in your cottage .

The morning when the crickets go silent is a personal holy day for me. Its date on the calendar is not fixed and I always know it is coming, yet it always catches me by surprise when that morning arrives..the beauty of that first hard crystalline frost with the inevitable bittersweet accompaniment of the Great Silence, the time to dive deep under the covers of leaves or blanket to sleep and dream into the next turn of the wheel.

The morning when the crickets go silent.

Amen.

From Christine, The Greening Spirit

We are, all, full of memories and stories to be shared. Please visit my other blogs and feel free to share a thought or story of your own in the comment.

I am also writing on one or two of these blogs each day. If you are enjoying, you might want to “follow” so that you don’t miss anything!

We have just come though mid-term elections here in the United States and the Greening Spirit is not happy. By whatever forces made it happen… general ignorance in the populace informed by faux news and media sources, sloth, or the influences of billions of dollars and dark money from and for corrupt power structures.. those who have produced rotten fruit…and also NO FRUIT at all from their own lack of greening spirit…have been reinstated or inserted into the governing bodies that shape our national agendas, and our society.

Humans can be awesomely creative, generous, visionary for a better future for all, courageous for the good, humorous and just. Humans can also be self-serving, greedy, manipulative, deceptive and easily deceived, and just plain evil. Societies rise or fall on these noble virtues or “sins” and failures of integrity.

We are in dangerous and disheartening times in this country and it seems that hatred, greed, ignorance and plutocratic interests and money have won the public upper hand. It’s not a new story. The arts through literature, theater and film have portrayed this kind of epochal cultural slide in revealing and prophetic “myths” like Lord of the Rings, Star Wars and stunningly, the movie AVATAR. Except “myth” is not make-believe. It is the capturing and revelation of truth.

What are we to do in a culture and society that is withering? That is becoming soul-less and soul-stealing and sterile of spirit and good fruit?

After un-curling from the momentary fetal-position, let us look around our immediate home environments..the small business community run by local friends, our gardeners and farmers, our dogma-free, non-fundamentalist churches, to our artists, musicians, writers of integrity and poets..right where we are. Make art or music or poetry ourselves. Sing, dance, paint, give greetings to strangers, pay something foreward, use good manners and courtesy daily, give thanks for beauty wherever you find it. FIND YOUR VOICE and the courage to speak out for what you believe in with great excitement and enthusiasm rather than (or at least more than) the things you are screaming and raging against. Bear the good FRUIT..the juicy, sweet and tangy fruit of good works, generosity, inspiration and love.

This essay is called “REQUIEM: By Their Fruits You Shall Know Them”. A requiem by definition is a ritual Mass for the DEAD. It involves grief and then letting go.

Let us grieve over the deaths of virtue, peace, justice and nobility in many areas of our national culture, and with careful but definitive releasing, let go of the institutions of barren or rotten fruit. DISCERNMENT.

In the meantime, let us choose to cultivate and become the Fruit that sustains life…and that is, life that is both nourishing, aesthetic and sweet. Do it somehow, somewhere where you are. Use your imagination. Be green and bear some fruit. NOW. TODAY.

One delightful thing about a garden is the element of surprise when things that were hidden are suddenly revealed…finding the last fat strawberry in a row picked clean, discovering the lone crisp cucumber growing behind the garden fence, unexpectedly coming upon the treasured secret patch of nettles under the drooping branches of the white pine. ” Oh look!” we exclaim appreciating the sudden revelation and gift.

A garden teaches us so many things about life and how to live it well and compassionately. Matthew Fox, the Catholic/Anglican priest and theologian, once silenced by the Vatican for his “radical” spirituality wrote something like: If we shelved all holy books for about ten years and went out mindfully in Nature instead, we would learn everything we needed to know about how to live a just life, from the Earth.

As the garden plants begin to wind down from their job of flowering and fruiting, they are not as physically attractive as in the weeks of youthful promise and birthing. Drying out, browning, marred by powdery mildew, it seems that soon it will be time to clear things out in the garden as in its deep maturity, things are just about over, its gifts utilized, savored and fully harvested…

And then…aha! Amidst the drooping, tangled mass of drying out green leaves and vines, a sudden tiny flash of orange… one shy pumpkin who up until this moment-in-time has been living its tender and vulnerable life hidden from view, quietly practicing perfecting its vibrant color, rounding out its flesh and form as a container of many seeds and inspirations for the furthering of life, all in secret under the mass of the green and busyness of the dominant culture of the garden in full swing, in public.

One shy pumpkin. Doing its special pumpkin thing quietly out of sight just for the pleasure of being a pumpkin with no need for notoriety and fame. OR maybe… could it be the tender vulnerability and shyness to avoid harsh or unkind competitive comparisons, judgments or rejection that had kept it hidden deep under the uniformity of all those shades of green and the protective canopy of (seeming) flashier veggie-kin?

Shy pumpkin’s time has come…a little later perhaps than others of her kind. But then its always a matter of time, isn’t it, as my counseling astrological colleagues know. When the time and we are ripe and right, the shyness can give way to courage because we suddenly realize that we don’t have endless time as either pumpkins or people to pass on our unique delectability and our seeds, being part of the larger cosmic cycle of birth-life-death-recycling back into birth and on and on…….

Which makes me also recall a one-liner from one of those holy books momentarily shelved while we wander about gardens and woods seeking the wisdom of those place of sacred scripture…

“Do not hide your light under a basket” (at least not forever.)

The timing is everything: “Come out, come out wherever you are, Shy Pumpkin! We long for and need your delicious fruit and your seeds!” NOW!

The seasons of the year have always been a focus of spirituality for me, perhaps because I am an earth sign (Taurus) with a Pisces Moon = Nature has a Spiritual teaching and inspiration that transcends even the messages of traditional religious scriptures.

Leaves of many colors are floating from their high vantage points above, back to earth. In my yarden and the surrounding wood, oak..the sacred tree of Druids and magic people..is the primary tree and the burnt sienna leaves are everywhere here, eventually covering all the green of warmer seasons.

But peeking through the dry and crackly brown, one solitary dandelion has blossomed, popping up, pushing the leaves sideways as if to say…”NOT YET, there is still a burst of vibrant sunshine yellow here before the cold!”

It appears that two messages and teachings of Nature are being communicated here as we make the shift from bright and busy to dark and pulling in. Another message is to find balance between our need to continue blossoming and flowering in our lives no matter what season it is, while simultaneously releasing and letting go of what no longer has purpose. Both the dandelion and the fallen leaves at this time also remind us to be grounded and connected to earth energy…celebrating the wisdom of Nature as metaphor for how to live artfully, with beauty, purpose and generosity.

Question #1: Where in your life are you blossoming, bright and sunny like the Dandelion?

Question #2: What do you need to release that is no longer necessary or completed in your life now?

Any creative person worth their salt knows that without seemingly aimless “time out”, there IS no authentic originality in whatever their medium of expression is. Original writing, painting, composing does not manifest sole-y (soul-y?) by will, though that is necessary later on to produce what came through during the drifting dream time.

Rushing about, meeting all of the world’s demands, forcing yourself to be “on task” without breaking away to be momentarily “irresponsible” from our culturally-assigned roles is a sure way to block the creative flow or originality that wants to come through you, and you only!

I captured this image at a retreat center on an island in the Northeast. This fellow “on retreat” even set up his two fishing poles to randomly “catch” whatever the vast universe of the sea would offer… releasing the need to work it or to be in control of it all, open to new fish..new ideas..which might come of their own accord to offer fresh inspiration. Total openness and trust..a willingness to cast a line, let it do its own fishing and see what turns up. I imagined that as he gazed out to the horizon in a sort of dream state, both mindless and mindful, that there was silent communication going on between himself and the Universe that he would only realize was happening later on, on the way home in the car or even days later when a new and brilliant idea or prompting popped up in his mind when problem-solving or creating in whatever is his way.

Down time is fertile time and so necessary for all of us and especially for artists, poets, writers, crafters, storytellers, and even creative business people so that the best of what we have to offer can be be reeled in from the vast sea of the Unconscious through our spirit and back out into the world.

Never apologize for the time spent in reverie or daydreaming. That may be the only way something new can manifest when the old forms and structures no longer work and no longer sustain life.

The summer flowers have passed, the trees are shedding their leaves, and all now unclothed and intimately revealed without greenery or petals, gifts us with another layer of deep-seeing into the wondrous mystery of things. Change, which we often resist… and letting go, which is often accompanied by sadness if not grief especially when not of our own will, still have a magical way of surprising us with new and unexpected beauty in each stage of transformation.

At the end of summer it is time for new “bouquets” and decorations on our altars to honor the passage of time and capture the magic of what is NOW.

I love the fragile beauty of summer poppies, with their delicate fluttery petals. The bread poppy, a lovely heavenly blue flower, is a special treasure and much admired. Sometimes they are difficult to germinate and so at least in my garden when I used to plant them, there weren’t many so the ones who appeared were like a rare treasure. Once the flowering stage is finished, the “show” is not over and neither is it devoid of purpose. Within the dried pod are thousands if not millions of tiny black poppy seeds the size of a period at the end of this sentence. Nature is not on austerity plan! The potential for new life after a period of rest and solitude favors continuation of the creative impulse.

The seeds can be used in breads as a flavoring and it is true if one were to eat tablespoons of them, which is highly unlikely as gourmet fare, one might become sleepy enough to drift off into the land of deep and mysterious dreams. I never grew enough of the flowers to save seeds for cooking, but I am totally enchanted by the seed heads with their little wheel-like hats and the faint fairy music they make as tiny shaker rattles.

We cannot see the magic of these pods while they are clothed and hidden by their blue tissue-like petals skirts…we must let go of the flower’s youthfulness .. accept its passing away…in order to access what was hidden and now available in the potential of the next phase.

Things reveal themselves passing away. Find and Celebrate the ever-present beauty that IS right now. It’s all GIFT!

It is not possible to write a blog whose intention is to present Beauty and uplifting thoughts, without periodically addressing the serious and devastating situations we find ourselves in on the planet today that threaten that focus. Issues of environmental pollution and abuse, war and weaponry, out of control power structures and self-serving greed sucking the life out of everything that is blessing and gift to us is running rampant on a scale unprecedented in human history.. unprecedented in fact in the natural ancient history of the earth itself.

Hildegarde of Bingen lived during what is referred to as “The Dark Ages” when myth, superstition, ignorance and power structures had no place for intelligent science. Things were indeed dark back then. There have been many Dark Ages in the earth’s natural evolutionary history, and in the history of human civilizations. Only HUBRIS and denial keep us from acknowledging that WE are in The Dark Ages now despite the assumed sophistication of modern technology and supposed higher intelligence.

Many are waking up however to this truth of our times of devastation and suffering, and finding the inspiration and courage to give Voice, like Hildegarde, to their outrage, their prophetic visions and warnings about what is happening and calls for Justice….not just for people but for Earth itself as the source of our being.

Going online daily to social media sites such as Facebook, despite its irritations and glitches, connects us to those researchers amongst us who are reading and ferreting out true intelligent sources of news or reporting the inspiring actions of heroic people who are standing up for aspects of Justice and Compassion that are personally important to them.

One of us alone can NOT take ALL of it on by ourselves, getting sick with grief and frustration. Going down with it in its weighty darkness does nothing to fix anything.. Awareness is urgently needed, choosing some area to focus on and speak for is necessary BUT while doing that, also speak and act in the name of Beauty, Art, Creativity, Imagination, and Love right where we are in our own community. Now. Today. This week. Stand UP for something important and of Beauty. (Part 2 in the next day or so)

***I am deeply and imaginatively inspired by music when I am writing. Jarrod Radnich’s stunning arrangement of The Lord of the Rings Themes… powerfully dark, foreboding and finally moving towards hope.. accompanied me as backround music during this writing of this essay. Listening with headphones is the way to appreciate this awesome performance.

We are having a glorious Autumn season where I live and the colors are becoming spectacular.

I have always found inspiration in this season..inspiration for how I would like to grow older colorfully, uniquely and artfully. It seems to me that in the height of summer when the sun is high and there are no shadows or dappled sideways light, that the green …so much of it all the same…becomes rather flat, tedious and boring, everyone looking quite the same in the community, “marching to the same drummer” as it were. Not much originality or surprise.

Autumn, when the chlorophyll of uniformity and conformity drains from the leaves, the vegetation only then begins to reveal its true colors and personality: Oranges, reds, yellows, shades of coral and salmon, peach ochres, rich burnt siennas and even purple!

I hope to grow older like the trees, shedding the dominant color of Society and mainstream culture which has revealed itself to be illusion or cover-up according to agendas that are not mine. I hope to exhibit the true and authentic colors of my own life’s accumulation of wisdom and deep knowing, to fully use whatever gifts I have been commissioned to use before I welcome Winter or say goodnight or goodbye… I hope to live in the Autumn years as apallette of flaming colors of gold, orange, red, and yes purple as in “When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple”..like a forest, before the Cold….. credit: photo by Kleurrijke oude (on flicker.com)

Nature is very clear in how she assigns work to her beloved creatures. Beavers build dams, creating natural waterways in environments that sustain the life around its banks, wolves group themselves in dedicated family communities whose job is to cull weak and incapacitated herd animals insuring a healthy population that the land can sustain, squirrels busily bury acorns in late fall for future food but also to be the movers of oak trees further out into the environment insuring their continued survival. What a glorious inter-connected web.

Bees have their assigned task as well, besides feeding and caring for the Queen and her baby bees. Daily they leave the nest commuting to work in beautiful fields of flowers, quite mobile and enjoying the change of scene full of color and fragrance within their workday, gathering golden nuggets of pollen to be transformed into the sweetness of honey. Yes, they work hard but they know what they are supposed to do according to their natural giftedness and talents, they labour in fields of Beauty, and the results of their labour is sweetness. They give Great Service to the larger Kin-dom of Creation, moving about the plants, fertilizing and cross-fertilizting herbs, vegetables, fruits, trees, shrubs and all that sustains all of us from the greening world. Their lives have clear instructions, PURPOSE and MEANING in the work they do to sustain themselves and the community of Creation.

What about humans? When it comes to the work we do in the world, we do not always know, when we are born into the Community of Creation, what our actual work is supposed to be. As an astrologer, I can say that when looking at a person’s birth chart, there ARE indications for the kinds of work possibilities and preferences that may unfold for us, but in our mainstream culture for the most part, we do not use this tool as a source of inquiry, wisdom and guidance. For the most part, the work of many ..tho not all..evolves through decision-making based on possible or hope-for economic security and rewards, or to achieve and maintain a certain culturally-celebrated lifestyle fed to us from the outside world as the supposed doorway to happiness and fulfillment. So many of us unwittingly forced to take work just to survive in a materially-focused consumeristic culture filled with knick-knacks, the latest “updated” techno- toys and products pronounced to be “must-haves” for a satisfying life. (not).

Where are these jobs carried out? In fields of flowers? In private studios for art, music, dance, theater, home based-crafts for sale or small and personal businesses? In beautiful environments personally expressive and in service of gathering the sweetness and honey that sustain personal and communal well-being, beauty, and healing? Does our work and work environments inspire the creation of a kind of wealth that uplifts and inspires rather than for the mere purpose after “survival” of gathering “stuff”..the kind of stuff that really is devoid of Soul and authentic honey that sweetens and nourishes our lives?

I have compassion for so many of us in our common humanity who must toil and labor in ugly, sterile or hostile work environments just to survive. Many of us have had to live that out periodically and situationally and many must live it out for for a lifetime, not of their own choosing. It doesn’t have to be drastic servitude either to kill the soul and drain the sweetness… day after day in small corporate cubicles in a which a daily job perk is the good fortune of a window (besides the hoped for benefits accrued for retirement if the job lasts that long) is not necessarily a sweetness.

I have respect and deep fondness for those who have chosen …and had the opportunity through Destiny and support or personal choice and determination…to use their own innate gifts and talents for work that is Soulful, meaningful to them and of true benefit and inspiration to community. I celebrate taking the RISK of laboring in fields of flowers of their chosen careers based on their true interest, to gather the pollen of possibilities out there in the gardens of life, making honey and living lives that include copious amounts of sweetness in their experiences. They work hard, but they know what they have to give and what they have to do, often without assured financial security.

In truth, some of these people are especially gifted, perhaps having been assigned a particular Destiny by the gods, and in following that they in turn have gifted us and society with their honey. We call them Cultural Creatives, a title that names them as unique thinkers and do-ers who in following an a-cultural path in the midst of popular culture, potentially and eventually re-install Soul into the real meaning of how we Live, Labor and Love. Because their choice to live amongst the flowers and create beauty from inside themselves and from the garden of possibilities, they have enriched our lives immensely and we need to recognize them when they appear, supporting their unique labors that bring the quality of authentic BEE-ing and meaning into our lives personally and communally.

Synchronicities and “winks” are always such a part of my life when I focus on something… a touch of “magic” that is a regular part of my life, and probably yours as well if you really pay attention.

Recently in honor of the vibrant season of Autumn, I have been writing about about the color Orange along with photos of orange flowers, orange monarch butterflies, vines and colored tendrils of that hue that catch my eye.

I wrote the first essay in the middle of the night so eager to share the photos and the delight over that color which is such an important part of this magical season of turning.

Several hours later that morning, I left the house and got on the road to go into town for some shopping. As SOON as I got out there, I was passed by bright ORANGE Volkswagon bug…NEVER have seen one of those before… a really weird color for a car, and quite funky for a Volkswagon which somehow could pull it off!

After shopping, I went to visit a friend whose house I had not been at for maybe 20 years and when I pulled into her driveway, this is what greeted me before I knocked…! A bright ORANGE door decorated for Autumn. Inside her home, the color orange was repeated in her personal decorating.. charming home-made curtains, dishes, and more. I could only laugh and say “thank you for the conversation and feedback from the Universe, which apparently loves the color orange too!

Sometimes we think we initiate ideas and projects, but actually I come to think that the Universe is in charge, inviting us to respond to and share its initial promptings and messages that need to get passed on through us. I DO believe that!

It reminds me of something a very special spiritual director once told me. “God always initiates prayer. When we stop to pray through something…we are really responding to the invitation to communicate with the larger loving forces”.

There is a retreat center on an island that I visit every couple of weeks to photograph the gardens, intentionally disappearing from the “World” of artificial noise, busy-ness, commercialism, laptop, and speed. Long walks through the grounds by the sea with the music of soft winds rustling through the trees, sitting on various stone benches and gazing out into the wonders of nature, flowers, water and rock feed the soul… and always with camera in hand ready to capture something of Beauty -close-up that is probably missed unless one is in reflective but deeply attentive “mosey-mode”.

Walking quietly with a friend the other day, we headed for the walk bordered on each side by the stunning mounded wall of white mums in full bloom. BUT then there it was in plain sight, though my friend missed it, she walking right on by a long tendril of vibrant orange climbing up the pointed stone fence, silently proclaiming “AUTUMN HERE!”.

I fall in love with this color each year when it bursts through the season of letting go, of drying out, of dying and leaving to drop back down to and under the earth. Oddly enough, it is at this time of turning, a color of life, of energy, of richness, bounty, creativity and surprise.

The color ORANGE! Full of joy and positive energy…and a signature color of Autumn. Pumpkins, flowers, leaves, dried fronds of ferns…orange is the token color of sociability, creativity and enthusiasm. A happy color, it is probably one of the reasons we take such delight in fall, even though we know we are headed into the next season of cold and dark.

I often visit a nearby retreat center with beautiful gardens and landscaping. This year, the dahlias have been exceptionally stunning, and this afternoon monarch butterflies were fluttering and dancing everywhere amongst the flowers…a rather rare sight since in the northeast, these butterflies are endangered having lost so much of the habitats of their flight paths paved over for civilization, parking lots and shopping malls. How appropriate their sanctuary at St. Edmund’s Retreat Center on the coast, with their stained-glass-like wings…

Orange is also the color of laughter and compassion, as in the traditional robes of the Buddhist monks… a color of prayer and centeredness.

Americans love corn….fields of it, on drives through the countryside, fat husks of it promising exquisite crunch and sweetness in personal preferences of white, yellow or a mix of both at roadside farm stands summer until early fall, large festive tied stalks of it to purchase and decorate lawns and light posts at home in the spirit of Autumn. At farms with mazes to get lost in, a favorite addition is now the corn box, in which adults and children alike lay down in the abundance of golden kernels to make “corn angels” rather than “snow angels in the medium, or with which to pretend they are sifting endless bounty of golden wealth like fine gems.

Indeed, corn is a symbol of bounty in today’s modern world…but it is a very old cereal grain dating back thousand and thousands of years. Data varies but archeological research puts corn’s ancestor…a grass called teosite..as being present on the planet for 80,000 years and cultivated by humans in its ancient to modern forms for at least 7,000 years.

Over that span of time..vast experiments with and improvement in that a-maiz-ing plant has made it one of the most well-known and useful crops on the planet today, used for a variety of food and commercial products.

There are SO many kinds of corn grown for different purposes. The most well known varieties grown today are Flint Corn (sometime called Indian Corn) used for decorative purposes with its many colors of red, gold, orange, brownish and white kernels. Dent Corn (“field corn”) is what we see mostly along road-side fields and in huge tracks of plantings (and I suspect in the corn mazes), it’s main uses as livestock feed, bio-fuel, and commercial food additives and industrial products. Sweet corn is the one we use as food, bringing us delicious flavor and brightness during our warm summers and early fall. Varieties of sweet corn have their champions…some love the yellow sweet corn, or the Silver Queen white sweet corn, or..my favorite… butter and sugar sweet corn with it’s combination of pearly white and pale yellow kernels.

I think one of the reasons we so love corn is because it is an old food, with stories and myths around it that connect us to our common ancient roots as humans inter-facing with the natural world. It is a REAL food that is sacred to indigenous peoples of both North and South America (it’s first natural home). It is NOT a Pringle. It is FOOD…and food is what sustains all of us no matter where we live, or what political party or religion we belong to.

For this reason, corn is a symbol of the playfulness and imagination of the natural world, its evolving co-creation process with humanity, and the blessings of the gods, Mother Earth and the Great Spirit. It is a Holy/Whole-ly Plant. And we do give thanks for its a-MAIZING-gifts to us.

Let’s now celebrate its goodness to us with a big pot of corn chowder, prepared with gratitude and love!

The Greening Spirit’s Favorite Corn Chowder

Recipe from Red Rooster Chef Norman J. LeClair in his wonderful book of foodie memoirs “Culinary Expressions” (Dome Publishing, 2002) Italics are my own adjustments. Preparation is my own way of doing it, apologies to Norman LeClair.

I had been away from my Greening Spirit Blog for quite some time during a year or two of intense inner change and necessary re-evaluation about how to gracefully change course, life direction and purpose.

During this time apart and for several years previously, my familiar path and way of being in the world of work as a music/piano teacher for over 30 years had shifted. The popular culture of technology as “amusement”, and cultural economic uncertainties have moved people (adults and children) away from making the investment, financially or time wise, for the study of art and music with the fervor and interest of previous years.

A kind of real life crisis in the way of “challenge/opportunity” had made my daily experience of work and the security and peace of mind that steady work provides, confusing, and somewhat disorientating…rather like being in a corn maze in which we cannot easily find the right and sure path leading us to the Center of things where there are goodies to enjoy, or a platform to climb allowing a view of where we have come from and where we may be going. In other words, experiencing the corn maze was an experiential metaphor for the challenge to clarity and sense of direction as well as an invitation to enter the unknown in search of a treasure and then returning to our origins, but renewed and with a new focus.

How to earn a living in a new way when the old way no longer works (especially for those of us who have always been self-employed or creators of our personal livelihood ) can suddenly seem like a maze of confusion about which way to proceed, where to turn, which path to take. Questions like “how did I get in here?”, and ” how do I now find my way to the new?” are the first two questions requiring inner work, honing a sense of discernment and direction in finding the right path to our Heart’s desire in the center of uncertainty, and claiming it in the Greening Spirit way. That is to say, surrendering to an organic sense of knowing that we are ever evolving through many cycles and seasons of our life in which there are natural times for letting go of what no longer works, and natural times for being open to what new seedling in us is waiting to sprout.

A secret then, when in the Corn Maze, is to open our eyes and KEEP MOVING, allowing the Center to draw us closer to the place of Heart where we can see the overview. Linger there for a bit and then get back on the path of return. If we got in, we can surely, with patience and discernment, find the proper continuing Path that will spill us back out into the World with a new and fresh perspective, new gifts to offer, new work and purpose. (this is a repost, editied, from 2012)

Some of us who are of poetic spirit, see things in more than one way, in layers of experience and meaning. In the poetic soul, there is a “surface” message or experience as it is, and then the “deeper” meanings of perception and metaphor. One of my daughters will sometimes sigh and say “Mom, can’t a thing be just what it is?”. And I must sigh in return ” Well, yes…… and no…it is so often MORE than just what it is.” The poetic mind works differently, admittedly making more complex meanings out of the seemingly simplest event or object. We can’t help it…the gods installed that program into us, and every person with even a spark of greeningspirit or star-struck magic in them knows we must honor the gods who have such wonderful imaginations and want us to carry their message forward!

And so our family experience through the corn maze set me thinking about life in general when we have been moving along on our familiar path, and then either by choice, or without warning, we seem to enter a new phase, propelling us on a new journey. And that new situation, despite a few hints, markers, or even a well-marked map, suddenly is filled with a multitude of choices, some which keep us moving forward, some that just circle around back to the same old place, or some that lead nowhere at all, to a dead-end.

These situations are all part of life.. as in becoming a parent (all of a sudden you have to be a leader), becoming partnered (learning to compromise..”let’s go THIS way!” “No, let’s go THAT way!”), losing your job or health (what do I do, where do I go, which path that will get me back on track???), or being drawn towards a spiritual/creative quest (how do I get to the CENTER so I can see clearly and live from the HEART?), family relationship challenges (we have a problem here…how do we all pull together as a family to stick together and figure this out?).

As my daughters and grandkids and I adventured through the maze, we elders had to often move VERY fast to stay in formation..an elder in front leading, kids in-between, and an elder in the rear, as it should be in a healthy family system. Our little guy, Aiden, at 3, has a spirit of mischief and is VERY swift of foot. Suddenly running ahead and disappearing from sight around one or another bend (or as well, leaving the path and cutting though and disappearing altogether into the corn itself like a fearless pioneer) and he could be lost forever, giving us a severe fright, as we kicked into third gear to overtake and intercept his youthful adventure. It was a parental/Noni challenge…sometimes we elders were properly in formation leading and forming up the rear, and sometimes the speed and curiosity or impatience of the kids rushed them forward into lead position, requiring a different kind of vigilance on our part.

This was a very thick corn maze this year and we almost gave up before we reached the center from which we could take a break and get an over-view of the whole journey which we had been making as a family team. From our perch on top of the platform, one could see the whole of the maze, but not the individual paths hidden within this jungle of corn, so in spite of having a maze map in hand, we had no idea of what might be the way back into the world, which by the way, we could see beyond the maze itself: the pumpkins, the slide, the snack bar, the hay-ride, the cars in the parking lot and people..small tho they looked from a distance. You know, “Life as we Knew it” aka “The REAL world”.

Grandson Owey was getting tired and a little impatient. Giana was still up for adventure and eager to get a promised candy apple when we returned to civilization. Aiden the Adventurer dropped his cap under the platform which was irretreavable (until his Mom broke the rules for the first time in her life (?) when he wasn’t looking to sneak under the orange lines cutting through the corn maze and under the deck and rescue it). Lisa, my daughter who is a scientist decided that enough was enough and whipped out her i-phone with the map on it to pinpoint where we were, and holding it forward so we could follow it out to the world.

Down off of the Center platform, with a feeling that at least we had accomplished a new perspective, we moved forward.

However no matter which path we took, we kept doubling back to where we had just come from, or came up against a dead end.

We agreed that next year we would enter the corn maze with a GPS as a back-up. We were startled and amused when suddenly we heard a thrashing through the corn and a renegade family..a Mom, Dad, and 2 kids..appeared n front of us, fresh out of the jungle, frustrated but laughing and desperate to just get out and back to the refreshment stand. It did give us an idea as a possible future option. ( Sometimes we just have to break a few rules, and go beyond perceived boundaries, becoming a pioneer off of the beaten path to express our creativity)

But we persisted…Owey who was really tired, Big Brave Boy that he is, asked, lamented “WHEN are we gonna get there….!!!!” and was comforted by Mom as we sought the Exit in vain, we adults keeping up a positive attitude for the kids..

Well, time was getting short and we assessed what was now.necessary. We had entered life with a spirit of adventure and curiosity, we had many side trips on the way to the Center, finding a treasure and perspective away from our familiar daily way of life, we had traveled to and through new and foreign territory, sometimes leading the young ones, sometimes following them as they fearlessly charged into life with fresh and youthful abandon, we had stuck together as a Family in a challenge as well as fun and adventure, we had problem-solved together and rescued a baseball cap, we had met a creative-thinking other family on the journey, and we had been amazed by the beauty and imagination of the corn plants..a gift from the gods themselves. And we had to move on, as life was calling us.

We could not find the path to the exit.

And so, taking a cue from the other family we had met along the way (humans do learn skills and resourceful problem-solving from each other) we communally assessed and aligned ourselves with the outer border of the maze by the sound of traffic on the highway, and the sound of activity at the farm….ducked under the orange boundaries strips, cut through the corn unceremoniously and spilled out..a “together family”…over to the refreshment stand and the hayride.

We DID IT!

Unfortunately, the farm had no candy apples that day and so Giana was very disappointed…another one of life’s teachings…how to move on. And so in a moment’s flash we did..onto the hayride, archery, the slides, and the animals. And all was well. Very Very Well….

“So much depends on how we see things. More often than not the style of gaze determines what we see. There are many things near us that we never notice simply because of the way we see. The way we look at things has a huge influence on what becomes visible for us …. Each of us is responsible for how we see, and how we seedetermines what we see. Seeing is not merely a physical act: the heart of vision is shaped by the state of soul.” ~ John O’Donohue ( Beauty )

Dare to be Beautiful! In a time when media images are so often dark, filled with pain, destruction, hostilities and disasters both natural and man-made, we need to consciously step back and make a choice to seek out and gaze upon images of Beauty that soothe, inspire, delight and amaze us, even filling us with awe.

There is, for instance, a “game” going on right now on Face Book to post pictures of beautiful flowers and to “gift” them to others in order to fill our pages with loveliness, color and elegance, overriding images of disaster, rubble, violence and pain. This is not denial…this is a practice to call forth and install Beauty and Hope in the midst of chaos and uncertainty while we deal with the effort to live in compassion, hope and vision in drastically changing times.

Constantly posting, gazing upon and circulating pictures of destruction, doom, war, suffering and pain may awaken us to injustices and darkness, but psychologically and emotionally often fills us with such grief as to make us ineffective as we curl up into a ball of fear, hopelessness and inaction.

Continuous draining of hope in the spirit eventually drains the body of vital energy and thus we often find that those whose primary gaze and focus on what lacks Beauty, become ill in their bodies as well as their spirits. If called to activism it is absolutely necessary to balance the grief and despair with Beauty.

There is a spirituality to cultivating BEAUTY in all forms. Gazing upon the beauty in nature, in art, in the written and spoken word, in good manners and behaviours with and to others stimulates the desire to have it, create it, treasure it, live surrounded by it and BEING it. This is not the false and commercial beauty of the consumer or entertainment industries! This is the beauty of the inner light radiating through all things, people, creatures and the natural world whose imaginative creativity constantly stuns us with originality and depth. To see this, we must be calm, and clear and somewhat slow…look to see and look to see “beyond” or “deeper” for everything is what it is….and something more.

DARE to circulate Beauty when others chide you for not being “real” to all the disasters of the world. You KNOW the disasters already…that is why you are choosing to bless and heal the world with the inspiration of Beauty.

DARE to be beautiful yourself! Dare to be colorful, flamboyant, original, and soulfully expressive in ways that only YOU can be in your attitudes, your actions, your personal presentation of style and dress, your words and your speech, your graciousness and gratitude, your blessings towards others and your generosity.

DARE to be beautiful in laughter, and DARE to be beautiful in the authentic shedding of tears.

A re-post. And a little early in the season as the oak leaves here are still firmly attached to their trees and rustling their dry leafy music in today’s winds. But we’ve not had much rain and trees are coloring up early, and other varieties have let go of their “clothes” leaving them on the floors of my deck and walkways The “Oak Maiden” is the guardian of the doorway to the next season…..

Usually at this time of the year, I am overwhelmed with the carpet of oak leaves that completely blankets my “yarden” since my little cottage is situated underneath a the overhanging canopy of a forest of oak. I must admit, because the weather and my daily schedule do not always co-operate, I am probably the only one in my neighborhood who does not rake and bag and neaten things up. I admit, I submit to the wildness outside while I give reign to the imaginative wildness within that flows through me into my writing, photography or cooking.

They are EVERYWHERE, these leaves, and they crackle and crinkle under boots as I come in and out, they come into my living room stuck to the shoes of my piano students upon entry, the blow in fierce winds and stick to the screen glass door as if to say hi.

I have come to think of the oak that surrounds me as a sign of the part of me that is magical while living in a mundane world, knowing the history of this tree in the worlds of the Druids, the old herbalists and other magical folk. I come to realize that often, the places, the happenings, the land, the home and surroundings that are unique to our own particular individual life are a hint of our own inner life and thoughts, in manifested form. If this be so, that I might be a woman of the wild, sheltered by a magical forest full of power and mystery which I love and respect.

And there IS mystery here as I gaze out into the woods from my writer’s alcove here. Throughout the year, and in yarden and woods, faces in nature reveal themselves to me, in the trees, the rocks, the sky, the flowers, the reflections in water. So it is no surprise to see the emerging mirage of the Oak Maiden appear through the dream of leaves and autumn’s powerful transformation from green to brown.

She is lovely, this mysterious Deva..quiet and calm, as she prepares us in the northern hemisphere to, like Persephone, enter the dark and stillness of winter for rest, reflection, recycling, and renewal. She is a reminder that this season is not meant to be a secular one, running here and there to shop and consume, but rather to pull back and let GO of what no longer serves us, to dive deeply to the underground of Soul to dream, journal, process, renew and quietly plan for what could be new in time.

The June 7th workshop on the wild weeds/herbs–Your Magic Garden: From Muggles to Mugwort– was a success! There were 9 of us which is great for a personally sponsored event such as this and everyone was very excited, going home to scout out the wild weeds on their own property, after we went on a weed walk right here identifying and learning about 28 healing plants. Everyone was amused and somewhat intrigued by the greeningspirit notion and practice of sitting and listening/talking to the plants in an inter-species dialogue, a semi-shamanic skill.

This will be an ongoing series each month, everyone inspired in between to further investigate in their own way, in their own yards and neighborhoods.

Margie, a research Librarian, called yesterday to tell me she found a book at her library that she took out immediately . It is called The Wicked Plants: The Weed that Killed Lincoln’s Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities. I will install Margie as our “dark arts” reference Mistress. (Margie has always been a forager, eating violet leaves, red clover blossoms, wood sorrel etc for her vitamins.) She really is a woman of good intent and a faithful Episcopalian but it’s good to be well-rounded.

Amidst a stand of lily-of-the-valley in her yard,Leyla discovered mugwort and is planning to make a tea from this herb of dreamers and wisewomen. Altho we do not use lily-of-the-valley in this country’s folkloric herbal tradition, it is a premier cardiac ally, used by skilled practitioners in Europe. I suggest she honour this plant in spirit, for good-heartedness and kindness. Mugwort, however, is an herb of the wise elder woman and the herb of dreamers, as well as a digestive aid.

Julie who is once again set back and in pain with fibromyalgia is given over today to the simplest of tasks to mindfully and respectfully gather nettles for a tea, paying attention especially to the plant’s message to set up proper personal boundaries, even “stinging” when necessary to defend and preserve the sacred “time out” needed when you are depleted and in need of silence and stillness for healing.

Carolyn who is NOT a gardener but came along for the ride said the experience confirmed for her that she hates tromping through the woods and being outside where it’s buggy but that she really wants a puppy.

We don’t seem to be able to find Elaine, assuming that she is still out in her wild fields singing to the blackberry vines from whose berries she makes her famous blackberry cordial.

Helen, emerging Wildwoman, lives with a husband who is an engineer by profession. I am told that engineers love straight lines and linear thinking. Helen, who went right home with excitement to meet and greet her very own wild plant allies, is very frustrated to realize that her whole yard is “way too cultivated” and there is not a corner of wildness there having been put to order by her partner’s dedicated use of chemically engineered products of wild-weed eradication. She alerted me that she will be sneaking around my place after dark to dig up some wildness from here to bring over there and tuck in to un-obtrusive corners.

Martha has reported in: She says that she found herself smiling throughout the whole weedwalk with great delight and excitement because she kept thinking “THIS is what I have been looking for! ” Having gone through a very major health crisis a number of years back, she has been concerned about keeping her body healthy and whole, yet still cautious about invasive medical techniques or relentless drug therapies that don’t allow much personal involvement and participation in keeping oneself healthy. She is looking forward to learning more about the nourishing and healing gifts of the plantword and the wild weeds.

Ruthanne, who herself has a magical mystique about her in every way, was very intrigued by the idea that there are plant “spirits” in the garden just waiting for communication with us, if we learn how to slow down and listen. I think she found it a very comforting concept that these faeries, devas or “friends” are here, with a very old wisdom to teach us new things.

I myself am re-reading The Medicine-Maker’s Handbook, an enchanting guide by an enchanting premier herbalist/educator, James Green. I am delighted by his warmth and humour and wealth of knowledge which is down-to-earth, accessible and full of love for both the plants and people.

Our second class in the series will be in July…and we hope to have some new attendees to share with! The theme for this class will be on “Communicating with

In any garden, the early morning is a magical and misty time. Especially if you live by the sea, the morning often emerges slowly from a mysterious and echo-y blanket of fog, under which the sounds of birds drift in and out as if from a far and distant land, even though they are just in the woods behind the garden.

In special preparation for a “Magical Garden” class, I have been sitting with the Wild Weeds throughout the day and especially in the early primeval hours just before the Sun breaks through to burn off the mists. With notebook and portable chair, I have been sitting in the middle of the Mugwort patch, at the edges of the Stinging Nettles and Milkweed, under the budding white pine tree, side-by-side with the renegade blackberry vines, in front of the yellow dock, meadowsweet and elecampane, over the dandelions, and near the wild lettuce and baby poke, waiting in silence and stillness for them to “speak” to me as to why they are there, especially in MY yard, and what they want to communicate. And, trust me…they DO.

MUGWORT this year is especially vibrant…and unless you are a Wild Weed yourself, or a Greening Spirit..you might be one of those Muggles (NO relation to the plant!) who think that you better call Chem-Lawn to help clean up the edges of your lawn. NO! NO!

Mugwort (Artemesia vulgaris) is a wonderfully magical and medicinal herb that has come to the aid of those of us who need a digestive remedy, or to help with a woman’s monthly cycle, or as an ally to stimulate your dreams and intuition (and much more). Tho this herb provides nourishing help to both men and women, it is one of the “magical” herbs for the especially powerful “deep seeing” gifts of the elder woman, who often recognizes what is amiss within the family, the tribe, or the society and is called to speak in behalf of balance and right relationship. For that “straight talk,” stimulated by the visions and dreams unlocked by this magical plant, the assistance of Stinging Nettle, which stands tall and commands respect if you do not treat her respectfully, can give courage to voice….but, that is another story..to be shared in another post, forthcoming (or at the workshop..)

NOTE: This is a re-post from 2011. When I check on what posts are searched for, I find that “mugwort/and herbs” are often clicked on here…sharing again. But perhaps more to follow. I LOVE mugwort!

For many years, and many years ago, I studied at a beautiful Catholic retreat center on the southern coast of Rhode Island – Our Lady of Peace Spiritual Life Center. The program mixed art, creation spirituality, prayer, psychology/Jungian dreamwork, ritual and the inspiration of the Rhineland Mystics. OLP, as we came to call it, was a refuge, a haven, a healing sanctuary and learning center for many of us who journeyed through the program and fanned out into the community to use what we had learned in a variety of creative ways.

But that is not actually what I want to focus on here. What I am remembering are the grounds on which the retreat house and castle (yes, castle) lived, and a particular connection with nature that happened one morning on a meditative walk after breakfast.

Like many such centers, the grounds were private, spacious and magical: a pond with bullfrogs, snapping turtle and large goldfish, paths between holly trees, male and female (with and without berries for those of you who know holly biology) leading deep into the hidden woods, a sacred sheltering grove of ancient beech trees , always about 10 degrees cooler under the thick canopy of leaves on a sweltering humid summer day, a wetland with horsetail for knowledgeable herbal collectors. The grounds, even tho part of a Catholic retreat center, were deliciously Pagan in that way familiar to Celtic Spirituality.

And so, that one morning very early, walking under the canopy of ancient wrinkled and grey-trunked beech trees, I was lost in thought, or meditation, or both, when I was suddenly stopped in my tracks by the call of my totem bird. A Crow. (Other people had swans and cardinals as a totem bird..you know, beautiful birds. I had/have…a Crow, The Truthteller.)

I stopped and had a strange and almost disconcerting feeling of being watched…of being not alone in the woods as I had perceived. It was a very definite sense…a palpable sense of a Presence, and of being observed, or as I said, “watched”.

Looking all around me I saw no movement, no people, no animals, at least not at ground level. Another loud “caw” from my Crow at the top of a giant old gnarled beech drew my attention upward along the trunk to stop with surprise at an amazing nest of leaves and a hole in the tree about 25 feet above, out of which was peering, RIGHT DOWN AT ME with a most direct gaze, a squirrel with a gaze that locked eyes with mine for several very intense minutes. Not once did he blink. Nor did I, I don’t think. But the silent communication that passed between us was filled with amused curiosity and the mutual unspoken thought-formed words upon each others presence, “Well now, just look at YOU. Aren’t you interesting, whatever it is you’re up to”.

I did laugh right then, and again when I recorded this in my journal later that day to have been made aware of how limited our vision can be sometimes as we humans tromp and crash noisily in our busy-ness and through our hurried lives, so “in our heads“, or self-centered that we are completely un-awares of other, perhaps even older life forms somewhat hidden all around us… Oblivious of our creaturely brothers and sisters in the natural world who are right near us, and from their high up perches, peer with wonder and amusement, if not exasperation or bewilderment, at our speed and noise, our incessant comings and goings.

And so it is in this season when the trees have shed their clothes, and sway bare to the elements, the winds and the forces of nature, that I am reminded to look UP and find the amazing tree houses where the squirrels hunker down and make community AND babies…and for sure, from where they keep an eye on us, knowing more about us than we can possibly imagine.

We live in awesome but perilous times. As the Greening Spirit, the desire of my heart in life and on this site is to celebrate and inspire hope, creativity, reverence, humor and Beauty. But the times we live in and the bigger stories of global unrest, fighting and war, weapons and destruction can be so disheartening. The thought forms and greed-propelled interests of governments and Men in Power, and of enraged disenfranchised, sectarian or fundamnetalist peoples have created limited responses that bring destruction rather than life as solutions. Weapons, bombs, drones, poisons of fear, psychopathic-driven power plays are destroying all that should be green on the earth and green in our souls.

Last night, I happened to have the nightly news on which is quite unusual for me as I seldom watch t.v. News of all our “Wars” in the world ie the War on Drugs, the War against Cancer and Diabetes, the War on Poverty, The War on Ebola, the War Against Terrorists… it goes on and on. Our language is very limited, creatively. But the use of the word “WAR” shows a mindset that is unquestioned, deeply engrained in our perspectives and very deadly…

Now we have a new common phrase about how we participate in” War” and I mean real war invoving men in uniforms carrying weapons and not physically defending our own coastlines and homeland but in faraway places. Do we send drones? Send bombs? OR do we put “Boots on theGround”?

“Boots on the Ground“. The Greening Spirit found herself yelling out loud in the living room last night, shouting at the t.v. “NO! NO BOOTS ON THE GROUND! WE’VE HAD ENOUGH!” And then hearing that 3000 “boots on the ground” (Miltary) going into Africa to “fight in the war against Ebola” made me shout louder. I don’t believe that is, if our history proves us right, a humanitarian effort or the way to solve the problem. Government contractors will follow.

The Greening Spirit prays for Veriditas “in the people that were meant to be green” as called by Hildegard of Bingen. For clean air, and flowing clear waters, for forests and plants that are food and medicine, for communities that create beautiful habitats and sanctuaries for people in which to love, and raise families, and sit in circles telling stories and who grow gardens and share food and solace and celebrations.

The Boots on the Ground in this desired world that cherishes life are the boots in the Garden of Life right where we live..the Gardens of Life that nurture, create instead of destroy, that bring merriment instead of fear, that dance in the green rather than struggle through the mud and fields of destruction and death.

Boots on the Ground ………

Veriditas~ Hildegard (1098-1179)

From Christine, The Greening Spirit

ps. You are invite to share your thoughts by commenting, making Community and learning together.

**** As many of my friends and students know, I have been powerfully inspired by the music of composer Jarrod Radnich. I was, with headphones listening to this composition of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” while writing this post. (Not just for Christmas…… for NOW! I t was a prayer for me..and for you too)

This past spring, while out on a walk on the bike path that cuts through our little town and swings around the back of the buildings, a friend and I suddenly became aware of the roar of rushing water as we approached the usually silent little river that goes under the road and eventually and probably out to sea.

NOT that day! Spring melt after a snowy winter had swollen the waterways and the waters rushed and tumbled over the boulders and rocks like a miniature Niagara Falls. LOUDLY and furiously rushing towards ocean waters, it was no longer a stream for dipping your toes in. It looked wild and it looked dangerous.

There were many curious bystanders along the banks of the river and leaning over the railings of the bridge across the waters. But IN and over the waters there were people of generous and heroic action. It was the yearly alewives run, when the little silver fish come in from the big waters to swim upriver to their breeding grounds. For new life,for the dream..for the next generation to continue. But to get there, they must have a focus and a target and they must go against the current, a most arduous journey. If the river is gentle and flows freely without too many obstacles in the path, the fish can get there in record time. But many times it is not an easy journey, with more than one uphill battle as they attempt to fulfill their destiny, alewife style. They can get tired, they can turn around and go back , they could die…OR…..or they can attempt to jump the hurdle. Some can. Many can’t.

Humans are so surprising in their gift of and capability for compassion and support of each other and the world around them. During these several days of the alewive run, graduate students and their professors from the Marine Fisheries Department at the University came to the river to assist in the urgent and difficult journey of these tiny fish to get where their destiny lay…UP! and OVER! the rapids. Standing in swift, deep and rushing waters on slippery rocks is dangerous and requires balance and clear thinking and a team of companions who can watch out for each other’s safety as well as that of the fish.

But then there was the one who was the most courageous of all, literally going out on a limb..requiring the most steady balance and focus of all…that young (athletic) woman seated on a thin wooden rail right over the raging falls, long-handled net dipping into and out of the water, scooping up whole communities of wiggling determined fishlings, and swinging it over her shoulder to the other side of the falls where they were shaken free to rush towards wherever nature’s compelling urge for new life was pulling them. It was difficult work and amazing to watch that young lady up to the task, tirelessly and gently but firmly tossing that net back over herself over and over and over again.

In a way, watching the whole team working together was like watching a symphony of compassion, courage and grace, all against the passionate music of raging water. WE CAN’T DO IT ALONE!

LIFE! …..moving through it towards our Destiny, not to mention just getting through our days sometimes staying hopeful, staying on task, staying ALIVE till we get “there”…whatever out “There” it is that matters for us personally and makes us whole and a unique and creative part of the Community. Sometimes we rescue, and sometimes we are rescued. Both take Risk, require going out on a limb or swimming upstream when what we have to do goes against the tide of cultural myths of what has value or meaning.

We ask and pray for the COURAGE to face the challenges and boulders in our paths, we ask that the path and the flow take us where we need to go, we give blessings and thanks for those who lovingly assist us in our efforts and trials and cheer for our succeses, and we generously give back when we can, to keep all in nature and in ourselves in harmony and balance.

May it be so.

Alewives and the Great Journey

******As I wrote this essay the music of composer Jarrod Radnich inspired me on…headphones on, this Carol written in very creative and HEROIC style, helped me tell this story of a task filled with courage, generosity and strength. Please click and use this music when you need to be brave yourself and reach for a big goal…(or even a smaller one that’s still difficult) YOU CAN GET OVERTHE FALLS! YOU REALLY CAN! *** Headphones or good speakers are necessary to use this music as therapy or serious support.

I always listen to particular selections of music when writing, for inspiration. This post was inspired by the music of the gifted Cultural Creative/composer,/piano virtuoso/symphonic conductor and music educator Jarrod Radnich (youtube/Pirates of the Caribbean, Theme from Harry Potter) and this heroic arrangement of “The Czech Drumming Carol”. Jarrod composes music for film as well so I hope if he knew, he wouldn’t mind my imaginatively using this song and its courageus sound as inspiration for writing about the Big Run of the Alewives…

As a writer, I am very active on FB and I love all the friends I come in contact with who are creative, articulate, compassionate, awake, concerned, and Visionary. Some are social activists and warriors for Justice, some are advocates for Beauty and those things that inspire and uplift (music and the arts), some are humorists and do it well with irony about all that is crazy and falling apart (Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert have this craft perfected) and some are asleep and clueless or in denial, preferring to stay light and happy at all costs, so as not to feel emotionally disturbed in any way.

Yet in reality, so many of us are conflicted between the grief and heartfelt pain (if not rage) of a world in chaos, and at the same time, hopeful about the emerging consciousness of new possibilities for a saner world of inter-connectedness and creative solutions for humans and the Earth so stretched and traumatized by greed and violence. On what shall we focus?

Our hearts bleed for so many reasons, both globally and personally in our own lives. (The saying “Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle” is so true!) How do we deal with all of it and stay sane..? How do we not pull in and close the shutters of our hearts to protect our emotional vulnerability and carry on? Fighting AGAINST everything only hardens us and adds to the chaos and it is not good for out physical heart either

We each have to find a way that makes our life worth living and for me it is what feeds and nourishes my heart. For myself that nourishment comes from a conscious decision, if not a natural tendency, to focus on and talk about what is beautiful and uplifting to the spirit….to focus and somehow express that which allows honest tears to flow from the heart, that fills my heart with COURAGE to share when challenged to hide my gifts and talents out of fear of non-acceptance or jjudgement and to give outwardly what I have to share hopefully inspiring the same in others.

We take a risk when we are vulnerable, expressing in words or creativity what is in our hearts that is tender, gentle, passionate or especially, wounded. Will others think us strange, odd, too sensitive, out of touch with “reality” if we do not carry angry signs in big groups, but choose a different focus of expression through the celebration of beauty and creative solutions?

There comes a time for tears and tenderness, and for creative self expression that takes the stories, struggles, successes and visions in our HEARTS and puts them fearlessly out intto the world. The artists, musicians, poets, mythic storytellers, theater people, and mystics know this already. Their offerings flow from the heart which in a society that celebrates “the head” for supposed wise decision-making often leading us towards disaster, might ignite in society the desire to change course toward LIFE and celebration instead.

Thank you to all those whose hearts are vulnerable but open allowing Beauty to flow through them and into us and the world! They are the Cultural Creatives, who will be highlighted in future essays.

*** One such powerful Cultural Creative who is out there expressing fearlessly from the heart is the composer,/piano virtuoso/symphonic conductor and music educator Jarrod Radnich (youtube/Pirates of the Caribbean, Theme from Harry Potter). I share the link for a special piece of music (Hativkah) he has arranged that for me was an inspiration for this particular essay. For full appreciation and healing please use headphones as the piano’s fullness, depth and vibrations are essential as a healing modality.

The SOUL is kissed by God in its innermost regions. With interior yearning, grace and blessing are bestowed. ~ Hildegard of Bingen

I have always loved Hildegarde of Bingen (1098-1179. Benedictine Abbess, mystic, herbalist, musician, writer, Visionary) and her vibrant spirituality so radiantly full of earthliness, grounded-ness and sensuality. I have also always been amazed that she was not burned at the stake for her feminine expressions of the sacred in words, phrases and sentences not taken from ecclesiastical writings or scripture, but rather out of the lived experience of nature, earthly life and her personal depths of soul.

How lovely to be “known” so intimately by the Source of Life, which in the language and times of her experience is “God”, and the Greening Power, Veriditas, that moistens us spiritually and physically in our incarnation here transforming everything in exquisite beauty.

And how blessed are we to have a friend, lover or companion with whom we are safe enough to unfurl our petals and skirts, emotionally, psychologically and physically to be known, cherished and kissed in the secret heart of our being, allowing for the complete revelation of our own personal blossoming.

We ALL have a secret Center, often hidden from a harsh world. It can be dangerous to be vulnerable for there are those who do not see Beauty, who move at a rapid pace by with eyes focused on other less exquisite things, who trample and violate sacred space on the earth and in the hearts and minds of people.

I think of the wars all around the globe right now, and the violence, bombs, guns, weapons, artillery and the weapons of mind, thoughts and words that ravage rather than kiss everything in their path. Hildegarde wrote plays complete with music and script for her monastery of nuns to perform, keeping art alive as spiritual expression and nourishment. She once said of the assigned characters in her play that the role of the devil was spoken, not sung because “The Devil is the only one who does not/cannot sing” For Hildegarde, beauty, art and music were like the “Kiss of God in our innermost regions” eliciting and calling forth Beauty and Wholeness in all things.

Those who kill, maim, and move forth in political, fundamentalist or sectarian violence in the wars everywhere with “toys” of destruction have NO MUSIC in them, cannot sing or dance and have no opening within themselves to the innermost region of Beauty where they may be kissed and moistened into connectedness and the preservation of precious Life. It is sad for us, and it is sad for them to be so devoid of true openness to the exquisite Sacred known by the mystics and poets.

These are challenging times. We choose to allow ourselves to be kissed in our innermost regions by Beauty which requires vulnerability and the moist Greening Power of Possibilities. As Hildegarde suggests, the YEARNING for Beauty and Harmony is necessary for the blessings of Peace to be restored and renewed.

The world is in such turmoil. So many petitions to sign trying to stop the chaos, so many rallies for and against things that are so seemingly larger than us in the sweep of history. How do we deal with it, often feeling powerless? There are many ways of giving Voice and effect change, and one of them is by going local and “grassroots” starting where we are in our own Community…AT the grassroots.

Last week the Women’s Creativity Group from our Unitarian Church held a fire circle at the home of one of our members. There really was no agenda except to be there in Community, to build the fire and be together in its light and radiant elemental energy, to write down on a slip of paper something that we wished to release and place it in the flames to burn and be free of whatever burdened us or had served its usefulness in our lives. A simple ritual and a plate of sliced watermelon passed around for refreshment on a waning summer’s eve.

Staying in the immediate area of our neighborhood, and in the immediate interior stories lying tender within our souls, we were able to gain both freedom, release, and comfort in the presence of Community and the powerful mesmerizing energy of the fire.

In every fire circle it seems that there is one person who voluntarily and quietly moves forward out of the circle to adjust the logs and twigs, setting them up for the burning. Often also, that person becomes like a Priestess and Keeper of the fire, archetypally, as she moves around it during the evening prodding and poking to contain its elemental power and to encourage its fullness. Sarah, with her jacket for evening chill, placed it over her head to tend the flames and in the dwindling natural light of the closing day around the fire, she indeed looked like a Priestess as little sparks drifted up and out of the center into to air.

In times of great cultural, political, economic, social and global change it is good to gather locally with old and new friends. To go “elemental” whether it be fire, or water, or wind or earth. In the circle of good people, being close to the elements brings out our humanity as well as our connection with powerful natural forces that symbolize how we might go about change creatively…EARTH for community gardening, WATER for compassion and tenderness, AIR for intelligent investigation and positive words that create what we want, not what we don’t want, and FIRE for belonging, releasing, passion and action, just to name a few of many possibilities!

We need to work with the metaphors of the Elementals and nature. We NEED to accept our humble roles as true Priests and Priestesses at the grassroots, making sacred ritual out of everything we do. We need Community and Belonging right where we are. Now. Today.

From Christine, the Greening Spirit

NOTE: Synchronicity is one of the amazing surprises of the Universe’s ongoing conversation with us. While preparing to write this essay, I was led to this link below through other mysterious connections having to do with another topic entirely on music and Cultural Creatives amongst us for inspiration. Elemental Fire Rituals are in the consciousness of people and communities in this intense period of change. For more inspiration and information on Community Fire Circles check this site: http://sacredfirecommunity.org/communityfires/why-fire/

In the movie AVATAR, the planet of Pandora boggled the imagination with its rich lush forests and flowers of exquisite complexity, color and design. Secret tropical island hide-aways hanging without visible support high up in the sky amazed us, a magical Sacred Tree of the World who held all wisdom for the people had us longing to be under her trailing tendrils to give us Sanctuary, Comfort and Guidance if we could only find her in this world.

We celebrate the amazing powers of imagination that won James Cameron acclaim for following his dream. Literally, for the storyline and vision of Pandora actually was received one night IN a dream while he slept, many years before.

I myself had a “Pandora Vision” while in a friend’s garden last year, and so here we are in the blue garden usually hidden between the worlds or somewhere deep within our Imagination and the land of Dreams. I was intrigued that although the environment around me shifted into soft focus blue (funny, as I was totally awake , but looking with half-closed eyes), , that the sunflowers laughingly refused to give up their bright cheerful happy yellow as they danced in the sun…

This garden is now only a memory, so I am so happy that as always, my camera was with me to capture this magic momentary opening into Pandora, which apparently is always here through the doorway of Imagination.

Yes, Pandora is ALWAYS around us. Here’s the proof right there in the picture!

( Hint: Don’t forget to take your camera with you when you go out. You just might….find…an…opening when you least suspect it.

When Georgia O’Keefe started to paint her large close-up pictures of the secret and intimate interiors of sensuous flowers, the “established” art community was somewhat taken aback at her independent daring. Breaking away from the pre-conceived norm of what was okay to create as “art”, she caused a bit of a stir, not to mention whispered confusion and criticism amongst the “professionals” (authorities?) and her peers in the community of painters. What WAS she doing??? Those close-ups of a kind of intimacy, evoked strange feelings of discomfort ( mild shock?) peeking into private territories of form that should be portrayed …well… a little more subtly and discreet, if at all.

But what of art? Is it not the eventual outpouring and manifestation of curiosity, imagination, risk-taking, and experimentation..a glorified manifestation of PLAY that is always free, inventive, innovative and magical, though technique is necessary as well? Is it not also the noble duty of art… and THE ARTS… to surprise us, inspire us, reveal deeper truths, challenge the norm and invoke and evoke new visions of reality and possibilities. especially in stuck, rigid and outworn or faulty perceptions of what is and always has been (” but we ALWAYS have done it THIS way”)

It takes a radical kind of courage to DARE to express different ways of “seeing” and perceiving how “reality” reveals itself to an individual. It takes courage to speak it, paint it , photograph it, dance it, weave into story or blankets, to PLAY with it and put it out there.

Some will take issue and condemn, “oh that’s so silly! There’s no such thing as pink and blue leaves…!” (Remember being cautioned not to color outside of the lines in 2nd grade? A message that has kept many BEHIND the lines all their lives, afraid to express what has been revealed to them). Others will say “WHOA…I always KNEW those colors were under the green in the worlds beyond this one when the light is just right! Thank YOU! I’m FREE!!!!”

But are there ACTUALLY pink and blue leaves?

In my world there are!..and so are they, or could be, in the “worlds” of Disney, of Tolkien and Peter Jackson (Lord of the Rings), of George Lucas (Star Wars), James Cameron (AVATAR), and in the worlds and words of bards and storytellers with harps amongst us, artists, dancers, musicians, poets, mystics, theatre people, and even the techies who design programs that play with light, shadows, colors in computer photo programs.

And guess what? We get to choose (if sane) which world to be in at any one time, moving back and forth as necessary. That is the MAGIC! You can’t always accurately balance your checkbook in the world of pink and blue leaves. But you can’t move through blockages in your life in a world devoid of imagination and rigid thought-form of how things should be done: the world of cultural “consensus”.

There ARE two worlds and maybe more. Dare to entertain possibilities! Risk! Discern which world to see from at any one moment.. DARE to express a new Vision for yourself and to the world!

As the Greening Spirit, I teach about things that lift the human spirit.. music, the arts, spirituality and metaphysics/magic. When I use the word “magic” I am referring to the power we have within us to live in Mystery by giving free reign to our creative imaginations, literally seeing things in a new way and bringing into some sort of form, and using the words we speak mindfully and consciously for transformation in our lives.

One of the favorite workshops/lectures I offer is about the power of dreams and the imagination, and another on “Consciously-Created Reality-Your Words Create Your Life” (http://lunchandlearnseminars.worpress.com) In these lectures/seminars we become excited and encouraged to DARING enough to lead our imaginations play and express new visions and possibilities. ”

Part of this process is to then be amazed at the energy of synchronicities that pop into our lives to validate and support these new visions and perspectives, as if the Universe is communicating to us “YAY! Keep going, dear human…you are on the right track and we have your back!”

I was teaching “Your Words Create Your Life” to a small peer mentoring group. It seemed that several of us were having situational financial struggles and were in need of a new flow of prosperity. That “money thing” seems to be of universal concern these days. We did some meditation and journaling work around this as a group, rephrasing how we speak about money and abundance.

Later on that evening, I had to go out for a little food shopping. It was past sunset, and it was dark in the oarking lot, except for several little islands with a young tree in each highlighted by a spotlight. As I passed by this one tree, lit up in the darkness, I noticed the soft yellow rounded leaves and admired them. THEN, in my mind “Why, these leaves look like little coins!” Immediately I took out my camera which is ALWAYS with me in my bag and photographed it.

Later, in working with the picture in my editing program I thought of our workshop earlier that day and the work we did around money… and here was this tree with leaves that looked like COINS. Playing with color through the magic of technological editing (what used to be done in the darkroom) I “conjured up” Golden Coins… a metaphor for abundance in all ways if we trust in ourselves and our abilities to bring into our lives better experiences if we choose what we give our attention and energy to. If we choose to “see” things in the world that we desire to see and choose the words that speak of them. The supposed wisdom “Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know” just may be wrong, coming out of a dispirited hopelessness. Yet, it is not just about money.

For the following peer mentoring gathering, I made up a color photo of the Tree of Golden Coins for each of us. It became a powerful metaphor for the possibility and reality of Abundance for all of us and everyone was delighted. Magic in the Mind, Magic in the Imagination, Magic in the camera, Magic in the computer technology that revealed in that tree, the golden coins.

At that workshop when everyone got a picture, we had a lovely communal lunch. When we went back to our seats and passed the altar, I did a double-take, for there in front of the candle was a REAL live golden coin. A dollar in coin form has suddenly manifested!

Well, in truth… it had not manifested out of thin air, but in the natural sequence of magic created when a group is into the mode of imagination, like in theater. One of the participants had slipped away during lunch and gone out to her car to retrieve this coin from her change compartment near the dashboard…just waiting for such a creative moment!

BUT…. a week or so later, with a large 8×10 framed photo of this picture in my living room and looked at daily, I in my very mundane time of daily life, stopped off for a coffee at Cumberland Farms. Paying for it and another item with a fiver, the cheerful gentleman behind the counter chatted with me while he reached into the drawer to make the one dollar change that was owed me…”Oh he said, I’m out of bills…I hope you don’t mind…here’s a golden coin…”

That had never happened in my experience before. As a matter of fact, up until this experience, I had not been aware that dollars in golden coin had been minted.

One of my great passions as The Greening Spirit, is photography and the magic that can be created through the editing technology that is now available in our computer programs. There is, in the community of photographers, some small debate at times as to whether one should leave a photograph alone to stand on its own merits and the gifted eye of the photographer, or instead enhance the photograph through cropping, framing, blurring, working with light, shadow and color through editing programs to create a desired effect.

For myself, I tend towards the freer and more playful practice of editing my photographs to express something at a later time in essay or written form. It is an old saying that “a picture speaks a thousand words” and although my photographer’s eye, never un-assisted by my camera, is forever and endlessly seeing wonders everywhere, there is usually within a larger scene compelling me to “stop and snap!”, some singular image that evokes a whole story, message or teaching worthy of pondering and eventual literary expression. It is the need to capture and highlight that central image through creative editing that makes it come alive for me… and the actual source of those enhancements, deeper than the technology that implements them, draw their inspiration from the creative sparks of the Imagination, thoughtful discernment and good taste of the photographic “artist”, and depths of Soul.

Witchy Willow It is curious that many old libraries are home to magnificent old trees as well as old and treasured books under and into which we may take leave of the mundane world and magically “disappear” for refreshment, inspiration and just plain “time out”. To disappear under a long-limbed and leafy tree or into the pages of a book and a fantastic story, especially a so-called “fantasy” one, are indeed magical experiences.

Go through the solid back wall of an old wardrobe in a hidden room and spilling out into Narnia, sliding down a rabbit-hole and landing in “Wonderland, slipping into your “avatar” and through dream traveling arrive in Pandora, and walking through a wall at Platform 9 and 3/4 ending up at Hogwarts are all highly imaginative doorways through and to the usually hidden worlds of Soul, the home of light and darkness, choas and creativity, woundedness, vulnerability, healing and courage, art, music and all manner or archetypes, muses, Daemons and guides available to us for our adventures on the Imagination’s surprise-filled paths and roads.

Our little local library here, though not ancient (but the township is) is home to a most interesting weeping willow tree overlooking the small parking lot. As with most weeping willows, long thick and thin wooden tendrils of branch twist their way in a downward sweep from a central sturdy trunk which is unseen. When fully clothed in leafy attire, no entrance to the base of that tree is visible, except “Under” it. Of course if in the middle of the Harry Potter series, one never does forget in Book One, the impact of the “Whomping Willow” that thrashes any interloper daring to come close, insuring its independence, privacy and displaying its most contrary overly defensive/offensive nature. But not all weeping willows are cranky.

We love this old tree at the library, twisted and a little mysterious, and to my eye and imagination, exceedingly magical as well. Although it sometimes receives a little haircut, or curtain- cut as a caretaker’s trimming clips its trailing vine-like tendrils when reaching the ground, still it is full of private, hidden mystery, for it is not possible to see the heart of the tree..just the spell of its thick green curtain that blocks entry to its heart of secrets.

My Witchy Willow has a magic power of Blue-ish green and depth of shadow, informing me that there are stories, poems, visions, inspiration, safety, and soulful inspiration beyond the veil of protection, and close to the heartwood, if one knows the right password to slip under and within and find them as treasures. Yet the word “Witchy” always has an edge to it…possibly dark and foreboding, the lure of the as-yet unknown requiring a spirit of adventure and courage…but also a sense of magic and possibilities available to us yet often unrecognized and un-claimed as we busy ourselves out in the parking lots and on the roads, rather than seeking guidance under the tree.

I love the Witchy Willow and although my mundane eyes see a more “normal” tree when I pull into the library these days, I know of a secret more hidden expression of that old tree that only reveals itself to those who see with other eyes.

As it is said in the “Witchy World”…”It takes one to know one”. (WINK)

Perhaps it is the long cold isolating winter this year, or perhaps it is a seasoned Maturity marching to an old and distant drummer which is somewhat at odds with, and questioning of, the fast pace and material focus of contemporary life. Perhaps it is a personal longing for communication with grown children who live busy lives elsewhere as parents and professionals and a puzzlement as to how things have become so intensely busy that even a 3-line e-mail is too long to ponder and respond to with presence or care.

It seems that the social forces want everyone to link up and “connect” but to do it as quickly as possible…get in and get out, skimming over the surface of life with sound-bites of information/touching base that become trivial because there is no time to pause, go deeper, reflect and dialogue for the fuller, more complex and truthful story. And that may be okay for some, but for others it simply is not enough to satisfy the longing for the treasured communication that was often inherent through the more personal presence and practice of letter-writing. In fact, I would go so far as to say that in these past several days of Winter isolation, I have been pondering the lost art of letter writing, as a sweetly archaic form of personal communication that is unknown to the generation of the 30 year olds and younger, and which has been almost forgotten by many who are older and now tech-saavy.

As a youngster and a teenager, one of my greatest delights was the rhythmic correspondence between myself and my beloved cousin Edmond in which we shared endlessly about books, youthful and deepening philosophical ponderings of the meaning of life, teasings and humor -an ongoing lively in-depth dialogue that started about age 10 and continued through his tour of duty in Vietnam and my marriage and new life as a wife, and mother. In a real sense, these letters to each other were like diaries in which we shared with each other great trust and patience, depths of intellect and for sure, depths of Soul in spite of our youth.

In my teens also, I had a handsome pen-pal named Sujit Banerjee from India who sent me marvelous and intriguing pictures of himself in school uniform, riding an elephant and visiting exotic holy temples made of polished glass and sparkling mirrors. How exciting it was to receive the mail and see his paper-thin air-mail letters with unusual stamps and to open it with news and Kodak photos from a place so far away in miles and in culture!

In the years of my marriage and motherhood 3 states away from my own family and my in-laws, letters flew back and forth on a weekly basis to both my Mom and Dad, and my beloved Italian Mother-in-law, Maria, filled with stories of our life and the babies, and the joys and struggles as a young couple while my husband attended graduate school at the University. My parents and my in-laws were connected to us and we to them across the many miles with those stories which gave them an ongoing “picture” of their children and grandchildren allowing us all to feel, know and experience the continued unfolding of our lives as family, through words, images, thoughts, sharings. And they told their stories to us too as parents do…you know, the weather, their health, the state of the changing world. In these letters, we spoke, were listened to and were heard. To get a letter, to open it and read it was a bright spot in the day, and no matter where we were, it was a a reminder that we were connected to those who knew us.

Not that ALL letters were sweet and warm…in times of family or relational stress, letters could come that challenged the calm, drew lines in the sand or broke the heart. However, the letter carried the truth of the moment of a situation and the truth emerging from the heart, and allowed one voice to speak without interruption, interception or deflection. The letter allowed a period of listening time, and if a bond was not irrevocably broken, a possibility for ongoing, albeit sometimes scary or courageous, reflection and dialogue in the service of reconciliation. The point is, the letter always had the potential for authentic communication…which takes TIME, and a certain spaciousness for thought…and perhaps, a certain conscious elegance that could nurture and deepen Relationship.

Of course, the teasing, passionate or longing and SEMI-PRIVATE e-mail or FB announcement of ardent devotion can never match the treasure and intimacy of the Love Letter straight out of the depths of the heart, to be read and re-read and kept secret and personal under the pillow or tucked away in a special box, with a key…to save for years if love is true. And if love is fickle, the solemn ritual of tossing the letter with its personal handwriting into a roaring fire is much more powerful and magical for healing than pressing the “delete” button!

Letters, letters of all kinds…the paper, the pen, the stamp, the time it takes to write, the time it takes to read…there is an element of beauty, honesty, respect and genuine contact and communication directly from the heart and head and through the hand that offers a human touch and presence that no e-mail, twitter or texting message can match.

And like taking the time to prepare and sit down with a cup of tea, the writing/reading of a letter is an opportunity for a centering “Time Apart” from the world, so fast and full of noise and invasive chatter about so many things that do not matter.

The Letter. It is an art and a craft worth reviving.

(Christine Phoenix Green, January 2011)

Coming up next

The Art of the Letter

Part 2

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The Art of Deep-Seeing is the practice of slowing down, paying attention and being present to the Miracles and Magic that surround us all the time, every day, every place, no matter where we are.

To some, the Art of Deep Seeing comes naturally.This is especially true if one’s personal pace and daily schedule offers the opportunity to not just “look” as we dash through on our way to somewhere else, but rather to stop and allow things to surprise us. When that happens these seemingly ordinary “things” capture our attention with their beauty, their patterns and colors, and especially their metaphors..that is, what they simply are and what they suggest to us symbolically.

The morning I captured this picture, or rather…it captured me…. was one on which a sudden sharp dark-night frost unexpectedly coated the windows of my car, the blades of dried grass and the glass jars I had washed and set out on the deck to drain and dry. Yes, in the early morning, I had to scrape the windows of the car, scatter ice-melt on the front steps and mourn a potted rosemary plant that had taken the sudden freeze to heart, and sadly died.

But then I noticed a slant of cold early morning light beaming through the bushes and across the railing of the deck…and in all crystalline brilliance and color, was a feather-thin pattern and sparkle of ice on those glass jars. Looking closely at them, I could see the icy crystals in a pattern of radiating stars as ifthe frost had captured and imprinted the night sky full of twinkling bodies of light upon the surface of the glass.

The magic of camera went one step beyond the naked eye, and the editing program of cropping and color went several steps beyond the camera. And what do we see once again but the ingenuity, the beauty, the creativity, the mirroring of stars and sky upon earth and in water: crystals, gems, snowflakes, stars, the sparkle of mischief, humor , intelligence and LIGHT in the eyes of humans and all creatures on earth. Wealth and abundance of spirit everywhere. .and a multitude of Possibilities! Is it actually possible to count each individual ice crystal upon that small patch of glass, let alone all the individual ice crystals of that morning?

Rev. Matthew Fox, author of “Original Blessing” often says “Where there is Awe, there is prayer”. (Awe as in “oh wow! Look at THAT!”)

I guess this was a morning prayer.

Move slowly, and with Presence. Be surprised when what was hidden because you looked but didn’t see, suddenly reveals itself to you in your rare moment of stillness.

Our first real snowfall is here today, blanketing the brown and burnt sienna of dried oak leaves, softening the limbs of branches and tree trunks, gently drawing us inward, listening to the music of silence as we watch the flakes fall straight down wordlessly but with messages that we hear nonetheless.

Shhh! Shhhh! Be still. Pull in and cozy up. Push your indoor garden closer to the window so that they can see the whiteness and celebrate their year round green-ness in the shelter of a warm kitchen.

Polish up the crystal teapot and take out the herbs. A special tea for today, a creative and sensuous blend, just because…Milky oat tops, red rose petals, spearmint, a thin wedge of orange and a little honey.

Listen to Vivaldi, softly, in the backround on Pandora. There is celebration and quiet crystalline lushness outside…

And magic and mystery as well. A good afternoon to read Harry Potter and the Half BloodPrince, feet up, disappearing from the usual path and pattern of a Tuesday schedule.

But mostly, it is a day for rest, for pulling in and down without distraction if your life allows that today..centering, listening to the silence of snowfall and within ourselves, breathing deeply and inhaling the fragrances of rose and spearmint and honey..becoming WHOLE again…and a prayer:

“Thank you Oh Whole-y White.”

(If the only prayer you say is “thank you!”..it is enough. ~ Meister Ekhart)